Trixie looked at the corner of the screen and groaned. How was it possible that time was moving so slowly? She was sure at this point that her boss rigged the clocks to keep his workers at work longer.
Her elbow on the table, she rested her head on her hand and scrolled down the spreadsheet, adding more rows for each invoice. The numbers seemed to blend together into an unintelligible mass, forcing her to double back frequently to check for mistakes.
She had always hated numbers, even back in Canterlot High. With a chuckle, she remembered her desperation when she'd climbed up a tree to ask some birds for help with trigonometry, all because she had seen Fluttershy chatting with them during a quiz.
Typing in the numbers, she idly reached for her coffee cup—her coworkers were constantly worrying about her consumption, but as long as Trixie never counted how many cups she'd had, her body would never know how much caffeine it had inside.
But despite the stimulants, Trixie’s eyes were heavy. It must be the 'staring at the screen for hours' thing, she thought to herself as she looked out the window.
Her mood for the short breather was spoiled when she was reminded of the dark clouds outside. Nonetheless, her eyes needed the rest, so she looked out at nothing in particular.
“Miss Lulamoon, I’m not paying you to watch the clouds!”
Trixie clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to shout back at the head of the department. Was her fate so unfortunate that she couldn’t even rest her eyes for a moment?
Reluctantly, she turned back to the screen.
The last minutes were always the worst, all because of the department head. An old woman with absolutely no empathy, she hovered over her subordinates like a soaring hawk, forcing everyone to work till the very end.
The worst part was that the woman knew of Trixie’s need for this exhausting job, so while some coworkers could allow themselves to get defensive without getting fired, Trixie couldn’t.
She had no other skills except for stage magic, but who cared for it? Her program never caught on, so now she was stuck in this suffocating place. At least the wage was high enough to bear this torment.
As soon as her shift ended, Trixie turned off her computer, packed her bag, and charged out of the office, not caring to clean up her desk.
This wasn’t something anyone could force her to do.
She went straight to the elevator, mumbling goodbyes to her coworkers on her way out. Sometimes, when her legs felt like they needed a break from eight hours of sitting, she used the stairs. Today, she just wanted to get home as soon as possible.
She pushed the elevator button repeatedly, but it took its time to appear. Finally, the doors opened, and to her surprise, she saw a woman with a child.
That was new. Usually, she met either cheering coworkers who annoyed her with mindless small talk or others who were as tired as herself.
She walked into the elevator and the doors closed. The child, a boy probably around the age of six, fidgeted and stared at Trixie.
“Hi,” he greeted her.
“Hello,” Trixie replied wearily.
“Who are you?”
Trixie gave a short glance at the mother.
“Sorry, he’s always so talkative,” the mother replied, chuckling nervously.
Trixie raised an eyebrow, but then an idea came into her mind. Her lips formed into a smile. “Me? You’re talking to the one and only Trixie Lulamoon, the Great and Powerful magician!”
The boy’s eyes light up. “A real magician?” he asked.
“Indeed!” She took two red sponge balls from her pocket and made a show of putting them one by one in her left hand. Closing the hand and opening it again, only one ball remained.
The boy’s jaw dropped. “One is gone!”
Trixie's grin widened. She reached behind the boy’s ear with her right hand and pulled out another red sponge ball.
“Ahh!” the boy screamed, jumping back and waving his hand. “But that’s impossible!”
“Oh, you think that is impossible?” Trixie reached for the boy’s hand and placed the two sponge balls before closing it. “Soon, you’ll really believe in magic.”
The elevator stopped and opened the doors—perfectly timed for Trixie to turn on her heels and walk away.
Hearing the boy's sudden excited screams upon seeing dozens of sponge balls appear in his hands, she couldn’t help but smile in joy.
Trixie pushed open the door to her apartment and threw her bag down the floor. Heading straight to the fridge, she looked at what was inside of it. Maybe today she should finally cook something?
After a short consideration, she took out the box with leftover pizza, grabbed a can of heavily sugared soda, and carried it to the living room. She barely gained weight, so why bother with healthy food?
With tired eyes, she looked at the coffee table in front of the couch, which was covered with dirty plates and empty cans. She knew she had to clean it someday, but it definitely wouldn’t be today, so she turned on the TV and let herself fall on the couch.
Sure, ‘reality’ shows were all fake, but at this point, Trixie didn’t care anymore. She just wanted her mind to be entertained a little bit longer before she inevitably had to go to sleep.
A message from her phone forced her to stand up and reach for it. If it was the department head again…
“Hello Ms. Lulamoon, my son loved your little elevator show. Are you available for a birthday party?”
She blinked before she processed the message and leapt in joy, typing immediately the reply.
“Of course!”
Waiting for an answer, she looked around and grimaced at the disgusting state of the room. She couldn’t practice in a pigsty, nor was this place worthy of her Greatness and Powerfulness. Today, this room will be cleaned!
