Flash Fiction Friday 14 (Another One)

(Note: First sentence came as a prompt from 1000th monkey's Flash Fiction Friday 14.)

     I knew it would be an ugly morning when the smell of scotch was stronger than the smell of coffee.  My boss and his girlfriend were fighting again.  His sober stretches were getting increasingly shorter as he managed to suck the soul of his latest victim.  I really wish I wasn’t speaking literally.

     “It’s as if she doesn’t love me anymore,” my boss said into his bottle.  “I always save that emotion till last, but what’s the point now?”  He threw a hand down on his adding machine.

     “Morning, sir,” I said, then scurried to my desk at the front of the office.  I wish I could just clock in like a normal employee.  My boss prefers a warm welcome over a time card.  I’ve gotten good at faking a smile when I come in each morning.

     The monthly phone call came a few hours later, days earlier than usual.  “That’s horrible,” I said to the policeman, my standard, rehearsed reaction.  I pushed a button and set down the phone.  “Sir, you have a call on line one.”  As an afterthought, I added, “I’m so sorry.”