"Alright folks, right this way," Ethan rises from his opulent seat, flapping at his clients, Michael and his esteemed wife Allina to take their respective cues. The showroom kicking about, still on the stocks, leaks a vim cooperating with prospects of one's expectancy. Conceptual sketches of the app LOVESICK's quirks, alongside sleek and architectural designs, have been built on to prettify the sterile walls pottered in red-pink. "Allina, Michael, you both have chosen the perfect time to visit. We're just putting our best final touches before the event. So, I heartily welcome you to the future of love here, right under this roof," Ethan begins, pointing a finger towards the feisty sketches all across the wall, "Here, we attempt to redefine the way people connect, to bridge the gap between the digital and the tangible, the virtual and the real," this man here, Ethan Smith, means business, for the gentleman has set his heart on coming to a yielding compromise at the feet his brusque woo
RYAN; The crowd cramming disperse, I am left behind, a solitary wanderer with an assignment that doesn't suit me, an outlandish piece of paper, and also not forgoing bearing the weight of an indecisiveness hurled upon me by my Mr. Haughty. I find myself standing, clutching onto the rather bizarre envelope that had been entrusted by a person whom I have never met in Sir's office. It is most plausible that he had always been there, I'm not too vigilant, nor do I bother much to look anywhere other than where I myself need to be, so that kind of explains. My mind right now is whirling with questions, whose answers seemingly lie nowhere I would be able to reach, my mind burning like a flickering flame of candle in a hailstorm— who was that person who was looking at me so cryptically? Why was he looking especially at me and not Sir? What did he want to convey through this envelope? Why did he not trust Sir enough instead of me? And… why did the person look so scared? What the hell is going
The grandeur, the opulence do very little to calm his nerves. Ryan has no idea what to expect, nothing one-up than humiliation. But the tumultuous events of the past stints had left the brunette on his edge. Mustering up the last bit of courage he has, Ryan enters the grand living room. It is filled with a bustling crowd, coming off apparitions that seem to dwarf the assistant in size. Ryan's anxiety shows no sign of dissipating anytime soon, a sense of foreboding washes over him. Each step taken, Ryan's trepidation dilutes. The phantom crowd seem to part a narrow aisle for solely him to pave, as if they are all well aware of the impending encounter between him and his overseer Ethan. He feels like a reluctant protagonist willingly walking towards his uncertain, maybe all altering fate."Is it what I am thinking it is. . ." Sound of a distant, feeble violin strings playing an all absorbing melody echoing through air, intensifying each corner in Ryan's mind, lighting his forsaken hopes
The interior decorators, a collective of talented creatives eagerly gather in the region, summoned straight from downtown Manhattan, circle a lot deasil, put together to bring Ethan Smith's visions to life. The CEO's absorption fits between the ornamentalists, his brow screwing up ever so slightly a fleeting moment before he seamlessly engages with the group, “So, without further ado,” Ethan clears his throat, “Thank you all for being here today. We have found ourselves yet another unique opportunity, as you may already be acquainted with, to live up to LOVESICK's fame. LOVESICK has always prided itself on turning ordinary pieces into masterpieces. Keep in mind, our upcoming showroom inauguration must embody this ethos to perfection.”Ethan's eyes, through and through, dart around the room, not lingering on any one person for more than a split second before moving on to the next. His hands fidget with a pen in his pocket, tapping it against his thigh in an erratic pattern. “Furthermor
“Yes, Elizabeth, outside the damn box,” Ethan repeats, growing with ripping adamantation, “We're not getting anywhere with these conventional ideas.”Benjamin, the team's resident strategist scratches his chin thoughtfully, “But where else can we look? We've exhausted all the obvious avenues.”“That's precisely the problem!” Ethan exclaims, hands clammy, clasped together, “We're tethering to the same old patterns, expecting different results. We need to challenge our assumptions, break free from the constraints of our preconceptions.”“But what does that even mean? ‘Thinking outside the box'?” Elizabeth must have garnished enough courage to remark such, “Isn't it just a cliché?”“It is anything but a cliché, Elizabeth,” Ethan retorts, “It is a mindset. It is about refusing to accept the status quo and constantly pushing the boundaries of creativity and innovation,” Ethan drags his ombre ravenette waves from his face for an opaque view that ends at nothing. The team members exchange d
"I would rather prefer to be sick than lovesick." *** It is unwonted— the two piece suit in a hue of dark mocha colours, a conservative tie, with coordinating socks and shoes. Ryan Miller, 19, never had worn any apparel that could be deemed 'formal', because he is allegedly reputed a 'good for nothing' for his incompetence, and therefore was never needed to wear one. That was until today. Yes! Ryan Miller is me. "May I come in, sir?" I stand before the ingress, carrying the copies of my resumè and some other necessary documents. "Come in," he says without lifting his head. From his appearance, one can undeniably say that my new boss, the owner of the chart-topping dating app of Allentown- LOVESICK, is a workaholic. I bow before proceeding to set my foot in that gelid, aloof room. From my boss's countenance, I can take it as read that he is not very delighted to recruit me as his Personal Assistant. I have heard that during the preliminary interview, there had been some disputat
"Family!!! Love!!!!??? Nonsense, absolute nonsense!!!" Ethan punches against the table, hurting his knuckles again— he shakes his palm incessantly, as he begins to trot all around his substantial office room. "Who? Who the hell is he?? Why would he appear out of nowhere and dare to lecture me, The Ethan Smith about love, emotions and more of similar jokes after all these years again?" Enraged, he sweeps away all the vocational papers put on the Caramel desk before him. He sways over that aforementioned desk, putting both his arms over it, closing his eyes to regain his serenity— Ryan Miller. As soon as Ethan closes his eyes, the picture of Ryan Miller zooms off at the back of his mind. "AHHHHH!!!" He pulls his hairs, before a thin stream of tear escapes from his right eye. Despondency taking over him, he crouches on the floor, "Why…why did it have to be someone like him?" He sighs, before his eyes fall at the thing beside him— Ryan's green handkerchief. Ethan lay his hold on the p
Lillian gasps at his brother as he finishes drivelling on about his new overseer, Ethan Smith. "Do you…really mean that?" Lillian murmurs, eyes darting between the coat smeared with coffee, distributing a nutty aroma of that brewed beverage and the talker himself. The air, at that, stiffens around them and threatens Ryan to suffocate, in humiliation— in case he can not concoct a rejoinder. "Of course!!" Ryan croaks out with a sadistic smile. Lillian can see the elder man filling with irritability with every barest account he makes of the events from earlier in the morning. Sensing his obvious frustration, Ryan quickly says, "You're still too young to understand any of these! Besides, my stomach is growling." There isn't much to sort and Lillian had practically known he has doomed himself to an uncomfortable few whiles; much thanks to Ryan's horrendous petulance. Now that Ryan is straggling, the younger decides to meander down to the kitchen to grab something to satisfy both h