Jess plopped sideways into the lounge chair. Coworkers murmured greetings. Friday afternoons were commonly spent relaxing in the break room. Today was no exception.
“Weekend plans?” one coworker inquired, putting down her phone.
“Maybe the beach?”
“You’ll look good with a tan,” came the voice of the oldest worker, suddenly in the doorway. Jess cringed as he walked by caressing the back of his forefinger along her dangling leg.
“Don’t,” Jess demanded. “I don’t like it.”
“Can’t take a compliment?” he challenged.
“It’s harassment,” Jess spout back.
Agitated, he uttered, “Bitch.”
“Fossil”, she retorted.