A FELLOW PSYCHO

WRITER’S POV

Collins grumbled into the elevator headed for the down floor of Morgan's building. His eyes were strained and his face hardened. As if the workers noticed, they all kept to themselves. They knew better to avoid his temper.

His forehead ached terribly and his fingers hurt. He didn't know if it was the tireless work he had done the last couple of days or the thought that his father was forcing marriage on him that caused it.

He had thought about it a lot, even threw his pride aside and spoken to his father about it calmly. Yet his father wouldn't bulge. What in the world did Jay Adams say to him? Before, all he had to do was pretend to turn a new leaf, focus on work and refrain himself from smiling or allowing a woman to smile at him and his father would give in and let him be.

But now he was hell bent on getting him married and not just to anyone but a bitch like Margaret. The thought of Margaret had a few bumps crept up his arms. She was very strange and smelt of not