Marigold's pupils shrank to pinpoints, her face alternating from pale to flushed and back again, her back pressed tightly against the door.
"I really regret this, please let me go, sir. I swear I won't come back again."
Lennon glanced down and caught sight of her teary eyes. Her eyes were red-rimmed, nose also red, looking utterly pitiful.
He asked in a cold voice, "Are you really not selling anymore?"
"No, no more," Marigold shook her head frantically.
"Not in the future, either?"
Marigold’s tears began to stream down her cheeks uncontrollably as she stammered, "I won’t ever do that again, please just let me go. I'll be grateful for the rest of my life."
Lennon tilted his head, giving her shoulder a couple of pats with his distinctively knobby, well-defined hand.
She was thin to the bone, not an ounce of flesh on her.
He looked away, "Leave now."
Marigold turned to open the door, sobbing, but couldn't budge it. Then a large hand reached over from behind, pressing her hands and lifting it up; with a "click," the door opened.
The lock turned out to be a reverse one.
Marigold didn't care to notice such details; she bolted out crying, even forgetting to change her shoes.
Not until she was a few meters away and noticed the elevator did she succumb to the pressure, leaning herself against the wall by the elevator doors, gasping for air.
It was dead quiet here; she didn't dare to cry out loud.
Marigold covered her mouth, tears falling like beads, her teeth chattering uncontrollably with a clack.
She was petrified.
She had never dared to do such things.
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