I pulled my blue Cadillac out of the garage and turned on the radio. There was a song that I had never heard. I loved it. I actually became lost in it. I was already down the street before I even noticed my wife running out with the paper in her hand.

The song was amazing, and it really spoke to me, well actually sang, you know what I mean. It seemed like it was specifically meant for me, the wheels of my car rolling impeccably with the rhythm, mean, not matching it at all to cause amiable entropy. But the trees that I passed, the trees were set perfectly apart so that they would fly by my window at every downbeat.

This song was flawless because it was flawed. It was something I had never heard before and by the time I had arrived at work, I had memorized most of the lyrics with hope of finding more.

So I walked into the office and panicked, everything was in boxes and my name was being scratched off the door.

"What in God's name is goin on?" I stormed in to find a very odd woman looking through the photos that were, till recently, at my desk.

"Don't worry," she sighed, turning around, still holding one of my photos of Joyce, beautiful Joyce. "You're not fired," she put it back after looking at it once ore, checking her reflection in the glass. "You've actually been promoted."

"Promoted," I could actually feel my heart slow "So, who are you? My secretary?" I looked at her costume, because that's what it was, a costume, and her hair colour in all it's hilarity. She was actually very pretty aside from that, with delicate features.

"I'm your new boss," I looked at her again as she jutted out her hip for a place to rest her hand. She was wearing shorts, shorts. Pinstriped shorts and a purple tuxedo coat with tails that made it look like, from the back, she wasn't ever wearing those short, pinstriped shorts. But did she ever have nice legs. Wow. Especially in those red high heels she always wore.

"Oh, sorry, miss…"

"Alberink," she moved her hips to the other side "Ophelia Alberink"

Ophelia? At that moment, all I could think was what kind of a name Ophelia was.

"Can't I call you 'Lia'?"

"no," she smiled, "But my middle name is Dubois"