Flight of the shareholders - Micro fiction story

“The sweatshops are revolting,” said the comms director, bursting into the office. Her mind raced, scrambling for a way to control the narrative, but her temples throbbed.

“Bloody right, they are. That’s why we use middlemen,” said the CEO, as he looked up and tossed a copy of the Financial Times onto the mahogany desk between them. It landed with a slap.

Their eyes locked in a brief but charged exchange. A momentary silence dragged out for what seemed like an eternity.

The director wiped away beads of sweat with the back of her hand. Her Philippe Patak watch scratched the dry skin. She winced and her thoughts flitted back to the televised images of crumbled brick and human suffering that launched the latest protest. The press release would take two bottles of wine to craft tonight, maybe three. She would need a lot to vindicate her life as she crafted the company’s version of the truth and saved their bonuses.

The CEO leaned back, arms crossed, lips pursed in impatience. “Spare me the details. What about our share price?”

***

If you liked this piece of corporate focused micro fiction then you might also like to read the flash fiction piece, ‘Caveat Emptor’ which is available on this site.