By 1:15 PM, the physical toll of Damon's order was becoming impossible for Leo to ignore.
The plush carpet of the CEO's office was soft, but after three hours of kneeling, it felt like crushed glass against Leo's kneecaps. His lower back ached with a dull, persistent throb from leaning over the bottom filing drawers.
He had never been happier.
Leo pulled the final stack of 2018 manifests from the cardboard box, his hands trembling slightly with exhaustion. He tapped the edges of the paper against the carpet to align them, then slid the pristine, chronologically ordered folder into the cabinet.
He closed the metal drawer with a soft click.
The job was done.
Leo didn't stand up. He didn't even adjust his posture to relieve the pressure on his knees. He stayed perfectly still, his head bowed, waiting.
At his desk, Damon was watching.
