The Designated Twin by Drew Taylor

Author:Drew Taylor [Taylor, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Taylor Made Publishing
Published: 2024-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

“That’s a strange way to file,” my coworker, Hannah Thompson, says, her arms crossed and eyes squinted. What a lovely Wednesday afternoon you’re providing me with, Hannah.

I want to reply, “Then why are you hovering over me inside my office,” but I don’t. I grin a plastic smile and shrug.

“It makes perfect sense to me. Pictures register in the brain quicker than words. By using pictures to file my reports, I can easily identify them.” I know I shouldn’t explain. She will not understand, but I can’t help but try to help her to understand.

“How do you immediately know that the pictures represent certain words?” She sounds skeptical, but at least she’s considering my method rather than dismissing me offhand.

“I associate the pictures on the top of the file with each of my clients. For example,” I hold up the file I’ve been working on but took a break from to organize my other files, “this image of a Christmas tree tells me I have Ms. Gretta’s file in hand before I even register her last name on the side. I associate her with Christmas because it’s an important part of her story.”

Hannah snorts. “Weird. But okay. You do you.” Then she walks out of my office in her clicking heels, her board-straight brown hair swishing behind her.

I have gained nothing but frustration from this interaction.

“Why are you so concerned with how I choose to organize and label my files? They are mine. You don’t have to touch them,” I grumble under my breath after my glass door clicks shut. Okay, she wasn’t mean. I think? But it still frustrates me when people treat me like a child who isn’t capable simply because I create my own systems instead of being “normal.”

Once I stuff all the files away into the metal cabinet, I take a breather and boil water in my electric kettle for tea time. I send a quick email to Mr. Austen, inviting him to my office. He doesn't always come, but he definitely shows up a few times during the week for my 2:30 p.m. tea time. The clear kettle chimes, letting me know it’s ready, and I pour a cup of steaming water into my oversized light brown mug that reads “BAE” in bold, black letters, and underneath it in a smaller black font, “Best Attorney Ever.” It was a gift courtesy of Hadley when I passed the bar exam a couple of years ago.

I plop in a bag of ginger honey tea, then I reach into my mini fridge under my desk, hunting for my bag of sliced lemons. While I’m bent down and moving around lunch meats, cheeses, and a variety of fruits, my office door opens.

“Do you want lemon with your tea today, Mr. Austen?” I ask as I snag the bag from the back of the fridge. I really need to organize this next.

“Lemon sounds grand,” a smooth and chipper voice that is decidedly not Mr. Austen retorts. As I jolt—because I know that voice—I slam the back of my head against the underside of the metal desk.

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