Amira was lost in those nightmares from the past when suddenly there was a knock at the door. A tall figure with the most handsome features of male gender was looking at Amira inquiringly.
“Hi. Can you please tell me where can I find Mr. Kamal?”
Flushed, Amira replied quickly, “The next office on the right please.”
“Thank you.” His smile was alluring.
Amira had not yet recovered from the mini panic-attack she just had when Kamal, her supervisor, the head of Think Tank department approached her and asked to join him and his guest Murad. Murad who was the son-in-law of Mr. Saleem was there for the project their think tank team was currently handling.
“Could you please bring along the draft prepared up till now.” he said before heading back to his office.
“Sure sir, I will be there in a moment.”
Amira quickly lunged towards Samreen’s cubicle.
“Hey! I need the draft copy. Pronto!”
Samreen gave her a half-hearted look and lazily responded: “I already put it back on your desk.”
“What? I was sitting there the whole time, when did you put it back?” Amira asked in disbelief.
“When you were talking to Mr. Kamal.” she said scornfully.
Amira rushed back to her cubicle and couldn’t find it anywhere. Horrified, she plunged back to Samreen’s who as a matter of fact had mysteriously disappeared.
She quickly rummaged through Samreen’s desk. There was no sign of the draft.
“I will not make a fool out of myself!” she muttered under her breath; grabbing a pen and diary she made her way towards Kamal’s office.
“This is Amira Sarwar, our brilliant copy writer!” Kamal exclaimed joyfully.
That addressed male prodigy gave away his exclusive smile.
“We have met” he said. Kamal laughed. “I see.”
Amira’s heart began to race. With this thing in the office, how was she going to talk and that too empty handed?
“Murad will be looking over Amr Bank project that we are handling. Amira, can you please fill us in with some details worked on so far.” That was Kamal, kind Kamal.
Amira looked at her diary and then looked at them.
“Sure.” she said in an almost inaudible voice.
And then an idea struck her. All she needed was some pages with some text and skills of an amazing speaker and a good memory.
Most pages on her diary constituted of brainstormed ideas for the same project. She tried to quickly remember all that she had covered in her draft, then standing up she walked towards the white board in the office and began writing.
At the end of it all, apart from from a few points that she missed, everything was covered really well and she was sure that she had managed to leave a good impression on both of them.
“Samreen, prepare your grave though.” she thought to herself.
She couldn’t believe that the history was repeating itself. Is there something wrong with me? She though, worried to the core.