He ignores her

Well, here he was again. Like a bizarre play, they went through this routine each week. The script never changed (save for the occasional bit of bad ad-libbing that the director would surely chastise them for backstage.) Kirk knew his lines, knew the blocking, and now it was his cue.

He’d repeat the fact that he couldn’t control the numbers. Rebecca would pretend not to understand. She’d get right up in his face, practically straddling him as she ranted and swore about bottom lines and being in the red. Eventually she’d get bored and leave, making some vague threat over her shoulder as she went off—probably to touch herself to the memory of smelling him or some shit like that. The curtain would lower, Kirk would go home, and all it would cost was another little flake of his will to live falling away.

…

But… why?

Why play his part? Why read his lines?

Why?

Kirk stood suddenly, cutting Rebecca off in the middle of an innuendo-laced insult. Before giving her a chance to recover, he unplugged his laptop and started pushing it into its bag, going through his regular routine for leaving.

“What the shit are you doing? I’m not done with you!” Rebecca snapped. “Sit your ass down! I control your paycheck, idiot, so you’re going to sit still and listen when I’m talking to you!”

Kirk said nothing. He finished packing, then slung his bag over his shoulder. Without a word, or a look in his boss’s direction, he walked out the office door, shoulder-checking Rebecca on the way. Her shout of anger was cut off as she suddenly moaned her way through what sounded like an orgasm; the side effect of their brief moment of contact.

Kirk took the stairs; it was only four floors. In no time at all, he was out in the fresh evening air. The theatre he'd left behind was already becoming a memory.