THE LADY OF RED LIGHT DISTRICT
Ahmad rushed toward the newspaper office, trying to avoid the stinging, dust-filled wind that seemed getting stronger with every step. It was a brief walk from the parking lot. By the time he reached the office, the other staff journalists, two women and five men, were already tucked into their cubicles like caged rats. Their eyes glued to computer screens.
The editor ' s office was situated in the center of the large room, the employee desks circling it like the planets of the solar system.
Ahmad slid behind his desk. His status as a trainee journalist placed him in view of Devan’ s office— the editor, and a man Ahmad considered a snake.
Devan was the one person Ahmad didn ' t want to see. He buried himself in his work, hoping he could avoid more of Devan’ s“ special assignments,” which always fell to him. But no such luck.
“ Ahmad!” Devan stood over him, a steaming tea cup in his hands.“ Yes, sir?”
“ Let ' s have a cup of tea, shall we?”
Ahmad cringed and sagged against the back of his chair. Devan expected him to ghostwrite another article. That ' s what having tea really meant.
Devan took an unwary sip and jerked the cup away from his mouth.“ Ow. Maybe not this tea,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
The glow of Ahmad ' s computer screen beckoned, helping him masks his rolling eyes and kept him from voicing his thoughts." Yeah, why don’ t you take your tea and get the hell out of my face?
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