I’m left in the staff room, alone and stunned and angry. Not just angry. My blood is boiling. My armpits are sweating, my heart is racing. I want to scream every Japanese profanity I can think of. Not the best idea with all my co-workers and the regional manager on the other side of the door. I want to punch the wall, but it’s painted concrete. No. It’s fine. I can hold back the tears. I can take my anger home. I can keep it balled up in the hollow of my stomach until I get into the elevator, at the very least. I just need to sign out, pick up my things, otsukaresama my way out as I get my shoes and everything will be fine. Professional, polite, and playful. I can do this.

I sign out on the staff room computer. I push in the stool I was sitting on under the workbench. I stomp over to the cupboard. No sign of my purse. “Son of a bitch, not again. Not today …” I scan every shelf, moving over binders and boxes.

And that’s when I locate it. It’s been shoved deep into a corner, squashed right under Lieko’s giant Louis Vuitton bag.

I CAN’T DO THIS.

With an unrepressed roar, I grab Lieko’s purse and hurl it at the staff room door. It isn’t until it leaves my fingers that I realize her purse is open. That, or I just broke the zipper. Either way, the spray of cosmetics and pens and wallet and sanitary napkins and notebooks as the bag bursts against the door is the most satisfying exhibition of rage I have ever experienced.

“Eh?! Nani? What was that?!” Bucho says on the other side of the door.

Uh-oh.

Lieko slides it open again. She looks at me, then down at the carnage of her belongings on the floor, then back to me. I don’t care. I’m ready. Ready for her to lunge at me like that old woman lunged at Hitomu. Ready to physically defend myself. Ready with that list of Japanese curse words running through my head just a few moments ago. I’m ready for this bitch.

“Lieko-sensei.” Manager’s voice is gentle. “Cybelle-sensei. Come with me, please?”

With a dignified sniff, Lieko turns and follows Manager to Room One. I step over the mess and follow, maintaining the same arrogant look on my face. I’m about to get it. Not sure how much Lieko will get, but I am definitely about to get it. Three months ago, I would have been in tears. Now, I am defiant. They won’t fire me for throwing someone’s purse, not if I apologize enough.