A month of ‘on time’ attendance down the drain. All because I forgot what today was.

“The longest train ever.“ Aliza sat the veggie skewers on the countertop to cool. “I should've known more people would be out. Could have been on time if I had of left earlier.”

The trans-train was the worst place to be caught up in traffic. Especially during annual, huge celebrations or ‘busy’ hours. Typically, the waiting time is less than five minutes.

Unfortunately for her, multiplying that by four and throwing in the many transportation crossings she had to travel through, equated her being late by nearly an hour and a half.

With a sigh, Aliza pulled open the oven. She carefully sat a tray of ready buns beside the skewers to cool.

On top of losing my perfect record, I'm on the verge of being evicted. Between necessities and gas, my bills have pilled up. I can't believe I'm choosing gas over a simple meal tonight.

Her small apartment had been her current residence for a while now. After moving from her hometown, Aliza had been happy to found a decent place to live until she got on her feet. For a while, she lived off the money she had saved, combined with the money she earned during odds jobs here and there. She managed to avoid eviction two times after persuading her landlord to give her an extension with credit.

But money equals food for tomorrow. Besides, it helps that Mr. Razzle has allowed me to take any leftovers home with me.

She leaned forward, arms outstretched and holding onto the sink area in front of her. Her thoughts easily drifted to her job. Finding the housekeeping job has been a stroke of luck. One that Aliza snatched up as quickly as she could. While she expected the home to be a good size, she didn't expect it to be so well kept up on the inside. Not to mention meeting the kind Mr. Razzle.

A smile formed on her face with recalling the time she watched the man pushing a lawnmower in a dark suit.

What's weirder is his name: Boggle Razzle. He's named after a game. I'm sure.

I guess a dose of weirdness is OK in some people. He has always been a kind guy. He helps me clean occasionally, claiming that he enjoyed my company. And there were times, like this day, where I was allowed to have any leftovers at the end of my day.

I suspect he orders a little extra sometimes. He's a sly one. He hinted at the vacant bedroom several times. Remembering being overheard on the phone talking about her strict landlord and her current situation, embarrassment warmed her blood.

She stared into the sink that was slowly accumulating used dishes. Unfortunately, I can't call him my employer. Finding out that Mr.Razzle wasn't her boss – a few days after she started – was a nice little shocker.

She had became curious about the different paintings of beautiful people around the house, so she asked about them, thinking they were family members of his. He told her with the happiest expression she'd ever seen on his face that they were her employers.

Well, the most attractive man with the polished, combed over hair was my true employer. He reminded me of someone at the high end of the professional field: classy and hiding lovely locks. He had the saddest, beautifully midnight eyes. Judging from the paintings.

Tonight she'll finally get to meet him. Thanks to Mr. Razzle o'course. She longed to speak to him in person. Besides thanking him for the opportunity, she was curious about Drogos Grants. What is the sadness he's keeping in? And why don't I see him around? He's like a vampire or werewolf.

It would explain some things…

Fangs flashed before her eyes. A growl sounded in her ears as her breathing picked up just a little.

“Miss Aliza., are you ok?” came the masculine voice of her co-worker.

She turned to him with one of her brightest smile. “O'course. I'm preparing the last dishes now.”

“Wonderful!” His eyes closed and he nodded his head in a slow motion.

Aliza came to know that this gesture was Boggle's way of expressing his sincere gratitude. She assumed that whatever country he came from were respectful people.

“And since you are our helper tonight, I've a gift for you. It's in the bathroom. Waiting for you to change into it.”

She was touched by his gift, but she didn't want to dress like a servant from the 70s. “A servant outfit like yours is a tempting offer, but I think I'll stick with my clothes. Besides, I'll be out of sight.”

“No you won't, Miss. Aliza. You might be a helper tonight, but tonight you are a guest of the master.” He arched an eyebrow. A twinkle of merry shined in his eyes. “I picked the dress myself. I hope it fits and is one I hope you will like enough to wear it at least two more times after tonight.”

“I really can't accept it if it's expensive.“ Aliza shook her head. “I'll feel like you're trying to make a pass at me.”

He gave a kind smile. “You are pretty, Miss. Aliza, but I consider you my friend and nothing more. I can promise you this.”

“Wooow, friend-zoned by a handsome guy really doesn't feel good,” she joked. Relief flooded her at his straightforward honesty. While her co-worker was a looker, she didn't see herself falling for him.

“You stop teasing me and go change. I'm eager to see if my choice is a good one or not.” He motioned her toward the bathroom with his eyes.

“Alright, ok, I'm going, Sir,” she said with a light laugh.

The cocktail dress shaped around her nearly perfectly. It felt a little big in the waist area, but her slender waistline was usually the cause for certain clothes not fitting the proper way.

She twisted from one side to the next, looking down at herself. “Oh wow, it fits. Who knows that Mr. Razzle is a good guesser. Pretty good taste too. I should ask him to go shopping with me one day.”

Looking up, she touched her hair. With a quick dig into her purse, she pulled out a small comb. She combed through her dark brown hsir a few times before styling it the way she wanted it. After some final touch ups, she headed from the bathroom.

“Boggle, where are you–”

At the same time the new voice spoke, Aliza had stepped back into the kitchen. Aliza's breath caught in her throat as she stared into a pair of the most melancholy eyes. They pieced her soul like the tip of an arrow.

And she remembered the arrow sharp sting from her younger years trying to learn archery. Only this imaginary arrow didn't sting her physically.

This arrow drove it's tip directly through her soul.