Page 6 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

My focus is razor-sharp once more as I see the small tic of appreciation on Mr. Yeong’s face.

He’s pleased.

Very pleased.

As he turns to face me and I realise that it’s fine to look your prey in the eye but not always appropriate to do it for more than a couple of seconds as that turns it into something else altogether, I’m forced to shift my gaze around the room and when I get to the last of Mr. Yeong’s team I let my gaze sort of hang mid-air.

This is a mistake!

It makes me feel strangely removed from reality and my heart starts racing. Crazy-stupid-fast-racing.

I swallow dry air.

The glass walls of the office start closing in on me. My mind scrambles and then settles on the only other plausible explanation.

Oh.

Mate!

This isn’t an inner ear infection. I’ve only gone and contracted claustrophobia. We’ve been camping at the office to get this presentation done. It was probably going around and I didn’t even notice.

Note to self: more working from home again. Lots of merit in working from home, I’ve always thought. Except, wait, no, I haven’t once ever thought that. Why would I? I can work anytime. Anywhere, anyplace.

What the hell is the matter with me?

What’s the deal, George? Make the deal, George.

With Herculean effort, I ignore the ringing in my ears and the vaguely uncomfortable feeling in the region of my chest and start doing what I am employed to do. What I love to do.

Thirty minutes later or maybe it is only thirty seconds later it’s all applause and happy faces.

I watch as Anya gets up from the table to shake Mr. Yeong’s hand.

Deal done.

Promotion secured.

It’s all good.

Very good.

Tim slaps me on the back and shouts, ‘Congratulations,’ in my ear.

That’s when the pain hits.

Incredible pain.

Not in my ear.

In my chest.

Oh shit.

I have to get out of here.

I lurch out of the stupid Charlie and the Glass Elevator style cubicle and head for the actual elevators. I usually take the stairs but even I know sprinting down twelve flights of stairs is the type of exercise that’s too little too late to stop a heart attack in its tracks.

Besides. Using the stairs is for people who act on their good intentions. The proportion of people who do that is relatively small and therefore there’s every chance I’ll expire on stairwell nine and won’t be found for weeks.

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