Bosses Cry Too

We disliked each other from the first glance. I—cracked his face with a wooden rattle; he—instead of getting offended, splashed me in the face with compote. It has been over twenty-five years, and our dislike has only grown worse. He calls me a “big girl,” even though I weigh only fifty kilograms; and I have to call him “boss.” Yes, boss. I listen, boss. It will be done, boss! You’ll cry for me yet… boss.

The cover design uses a Shutterstock stock photo 745103218. Contains profanity.