The bear glanced at the clock, fidgeting restlessly in his chair. She pulled out a bottle and took a deep swig of scotch, before locking it back up in her desk drawer.
Snuggles was a cutie–“was” being the key word. He’d finally reached that gangly phase of puberty and outgrown his role as the cuddly laundry detergent mascot. It was time to let Snuggles go, and of course, that job fell to her.
“Ma’am, your appointment is here.” Her secretary’s thin voice crackled through the intercom.
“Send him in.” She sighed. She hated being the Bear of Bad News.