considered　spitting　in　the　drink　but　was　able　to　restrain　myself。
  Next；　I　pulled　a　small　china　plate　from　the　overhead　bin　and　dumped
  out　the　greasy　meat　and　the　oozing　Danish；　wiping　my　hands　on　her
  dirty　dry　cleaning；　which　was　hidden　beneath　my　desk　so　she　couldn’t
  see　it　hadn’t　been　picked　up　yet。　I　was　theoretically　supposed　to
  clean　her　plate　each　day　in　the　sink　in　our　mock…up　kitchen；　but　I
  just　couldn’t　bring　myself　to　bother。　The　humiliation　of　doing　her
  dishes　in　front　of　everyone　prompted　me　to　wipe　it　down　with　tissues
  after　each　meal　and　scrape　off　any　leftover　cheese　with　my
  fingernails。　If　it　was　really　dirty　or　had　been　sitting　for　a　long
  time；　I’d　open　a　bottle　of　the　Pellegrino　we　kept　by　the　case　and
  dump　a　little　bit　on。　I　figured　she　should　be　thankful　I　wasn’t
  using　a　spritz　or　two　of　desk　cleaner。　I　was　reasonably　sure　that　I
  had　reached　a　new　moral　low—what　was　worrisome　was　that　I’d　sunk　to
  it　so　naturally。
  “Remember；　I　want　my　girls　smiling；”　she　was　saying　into　the　phone。
  I　could　tell　from　her　tone　she　was　talking　to　Lucia；　the　fashion
  director　who’d　be　in　charge　of　the　uping　Brazil　shoot；　about　how
  the　models　should　appear。　“Happy；　lots　of　teeth；　clean　healthy
  girls。　No　brooding；　no　anger；　no　frowning；　no　dark　makeup。　I　want
  them　shining。　I　mean　it；　Lucia：　I　will　accept　nothing　less。”
  I　set　the　plate　on　the　edge　of　her　desk　and　placed　the　latte　and　the
  napkin　with　all　necessary　accessories　next　to　it。　She　didn’t　look　at
  me。　I　paused　for　a　moment　to　see　if　she’d　hand　me　a　pile　of　papers
  off　her　desk；　things　to　fax　or　find　or　file；　but　she　ignored　me　and
  I　walked　out。　Eight…thirtyA　。M。　I’d　been　awake　now　for　three　full
  hours；　felt　like　I’d　already　worked　for　twelve；　and　could　finally
  sit　down　for　the　very　first　time　all　morning。　Just　as　I　was　logging
  on　to　Hotmail；　anticipating　some　fun　e…mails　from　people　on　the
  outside；　she　walked　out。　The　belted　jacket　cinched　her　already　tiny
  waist　and　plemented　the　perfectly　fitted　pencil　skirt　she　wore
  beneath　it。　She　looked　dynamite。
  “Ahn…dre…ah。　The　latte　is　ice　cold。　I　don’t　understand　why。　You　were
  certainly　gone　long　enough！　Bring　me　another。”
  I　inhaled　deeply　and　concentrated　on　keeping　the　look　of　hatred　off
  my　face。　Miranda　set　the　offending　latte　on　my　desk　and　flipped
  through　the　new　issue　ofVanity　Fair　that　a　staffer　had　set　on　the
  table　for　her。　I　could　feel　Emily　watching　me　and　knew　her　look
  would　be　one　of　sympathy　and　anger：　she　felt　bad　that　I　had　to
  repeat　the　hellish　ordeal　all　over　again；　but　she　hated　me　for
  daring　to　be　upset　about　it。　After　all；　wouldn’t　a　million　girls　die
  for　my　job？
  And　so　with　an　audible　sigh—something　I’d　perfected　lately；　so　it
  was　just　enough　Miranda　could　hear　but　not　nearly　enough　she　could
  ever　call　me　on　it—I　once　again　put　on　my　coat　and　willed　my　legs　to
  move　toward　the　elevators。　It　was　going　to　be　another　long；　long
  day。
  The　second　coffee　run　in　twenty　minutes　went　much　more　smoothly；　the
  lines　at　Starbucks　had　thinned　a　little　and　Marion　had　e　on　duty。
  She　herself　got　to　work　on　a　tall　latte　as　soon　as　I　walked　in　the
  door。　I　didn’t　bother　overspending　on　a　larger　order　this　time
  because　I　was　too　desperate　to　just　get　back　and　sit　down；　but　I　did
  addventi　cappuccinos　for　both　Emily　and　me。　Just　as　I　was　paying　for
  the　coffee；　my　phone　rang。　Goddamn　it　to　hell；　this　woman　was
  impossible。　Insatiable；　impatient；　impossible。　I　hadn’t　been　gone
  for　more　than　four　minutes；　she　couldn’t　possibly　be　freaking　out
  yet。　Again；　I　balanced　my　tray　in　one　hand　and　pulled　my　phone　from
  my　coat　pocket。　I’d　already　decided　that　such　behavior　on　her　part
  warranted　my　having　another　cigarette—if　just　to　hold　up　her　Coffee
  a　few　minutes　longer—when　I　saw　that　it　was　Lily　calling　from　her
  Home　phone。
  “Hey；　bad　time？”　she　asked；　sounding　excited。　I　looked　at　my　watch
  and　saw　that　she　should’ve　been　in　class。
  “Um；　sort　of。　I’m　on　my　second　Coffee　run；　which　is　really　great。
  I’m　really；　really　enjoying　myself；　just　in　case　you　were　wondering。
  What’s　up？　Don’t　you　have　class　now？”
  “Yeah；　but　I　went　out　with　Pink…Shirt　Boy　again　last　night　and　we
  each　drank　a　few　too　many　margaritas。　Like；　eight　too　many。　He’s
  still　passed　out　here；　so　I　can’t　just　leave　him。　But　that’s　not　why
  I’m　calling。”
  “Yeah？”　I　was　barely　listening；　since　one　of　the　cappuccinos　was
  starting　to　leak　and　I　had　the　phone　wedged　in　between　my　neck　and
  my　shoulder　as　I　used　my　one　free　hand　to　pluck　a　cigarette　from　the
  box　and　light　it。
  “My　landlord　had　the　nerve　to　knock　on　my　door　at　eight　o’clock　this
  morning　to　tell　me　that　I’m　being　evicted；”　she　said　with　not　a
  little　bit　of　glee　in　her　voice。
  “Evicted？　Lil；　why？　What　are　you　going　to　do？”
  “It　seems　they　finally　caught　on　that　I’m　not　Sandra　Gers　and　that
  she　hasn’t　lived　here　in　six　months。　Since　she’s　technically　not
  family；　she　wasn’t　allowed　to　pass　down　the　rent…controlled
  apartment　to　me。　I　knew　that；　of　course；　so　I’ve　just　been　saying
  I’m　her。　I　don’t　really　know　how　they　found　out。　But　whatev；　it
  doesn’t　really　matter；　because　now　you　and　I　can　live　together！　Your
  lease　with　Shanti　and　Kendra　is　just　month　by　month；　right？　You
  subletted　because　you　had　no　place　to　live；　right？”
  “Right。”
  “Well；　now　you　do！　We　can　get　a　place　together；　anywhere　we　like！”
  “That’s　great！”　It　sounded　hollow　to　my　ears　even　though　I　was
  genuinely　excited。
  “So　you’re　up　for　it？”　she　asked；　her　enthusiasm　sounding　a　bit
  dampened。
  “Lil；　definitely。　Honestly；　it’s　an　awesome　idea。　I　don’t　mean　to
  sound　negative；　it’s　just　that　it’s　sleeting　and　I’m　standing
  outside　and　I　have　burning　hot　Coffee　running　down　my　left　arm　。　。
  。”Beep…beep。　The　other　line　rang；　and　even　though　I　almost　burned　my
  neck　with　the　lit　end　of　the　cigarette　while　trying　to　pull　my　phone
  away　from　my　ear；　I　was　able　to　see　that　it　was　Emily　calling。
  “Shit；　Lil；　it’s　Miranda　calling。　I’ve　got　to　run。　But　congrats　on
  getting　evicted！　I’m　so　excited　for　us。　I’ll　call　you　later；　OK？”
  “OK；　I’ll　talk　to—”
  I　had　already　clicked　over　and　mentally　prepared　myself　for　the
  barrage。
  “Me　again；”　Emily　said　tightly。　“What　the　hell　is　going　on？　It’s　a
  fucking　Coffee；　for　chrissake。　You　forget　that　I　used　to　do　your
  job；　and　I　know　it　doesn’t　take　that　long　to—”
  “What？”　I　said　loudly；　holding　a　few　fingers　over　the　microphone　on
  the　receiver。　“What’d　you　say？　I　can’t　hear　you。　Well；　if　you　can
  hear　me；　I’ll　be　back　in　just　a　minute！”　And　I　clicked　my　phone　shut
  and　buried　it　deep　in　my　pocket。　And　even　though　I　had　at　least　half
  a　Marlboro　left；　I　dropped　it　on　the　sidewalk　and　ran　back　to　work。
  Miranda　deigned　to　accept　this　slightly　warmer　latte　and　even　gave
  us　a　few　moments　of　peace　between　ten　and　eleven；　when　she　sat　in
  her　office　with　the　door　closed；　cooing　to　B…DAD。　I’d　officially　met
  him　for　the　first　time　the　week　before；　when　I’d　dropped　the　Book
  off　that　Wednesday　night　around　nine。　He　had　been　removing　his　coat
  from　the　closet　in　the　foyer　and　spent　the　next　ten　minutes
  referring　to　himself　in　the　third　person。　Since　that　meeting；　he　had
  paid　me　extra…special　attention　when　I　let　myself　in　each　night；
  always　taking　a　few　minutes　to　ask　about　my　day　or　pliment　me　on
  a　job　well　done。　Naturally；　none　of　these　niceties　seemed　to　rub　off
  on　his　wife；　but　at　least　he　was　pleasant　to　be　around。
  I　was　just　about　to　begin　calling　some　of　the　PR　people　to　see　about
  getting　a　few　more　decent　clothes　to　wear　to　work　when　Miranda’s
  voice　shook　me　from　my　thoughts。　“Emily；　I’d　like　my　lunch。”　She　had
  called　from　her　office　to　no　one　in　particular；　since　Emily　could
  mean　either　of　us。　The　real　Emily　looked　at　me　and　nodded；　and　I
  knew　it　was　OK　to　move。　The　number　for　Smith　and　Wollensky　was
  programmed　into　my　desk　phone；　and　I　recognized　the　voice　on　the
  other　end　as　the　new　girl。
  “Hey；　Kim；　it’s　Andrea　from　Miranda　Priestly’s　office。　Is　Sebastian
  there？”
  “Oh；　hi；　um；　what　did　you　say　your　name　was　again？”　No　matter　that　I
  called　at　the　exact　same　time；　twice　a　week；　and　had　already
  identified　myself—she　always　acted　as　though　we’d　never　spoken。
  “From　Miranda　Priestly’s　office。　AtRunway　。　Listen；　I　don’t　mean　to
  be　rude”—yes；　actually；　I　do—“but　I’m　kind　of　in　a　hurry。　Could　you
  just　put　Sebastian　on？”　If　anyone　else　had　answered　I　would’ve　been
  able　to　just　tell　that　person　to　put　in　an　order　for　Miranda’s
  ?