Your boss, Aaron, is married to work. Every time you and the team are released to go… live your lives, you glance at his office and he’s sitting hunched over his desk, lamp illuminating his exhausted features, doing paperwork. You felt bad for him but you had no idea how to help. So, day by day, case or no case, you spare glances over at him in his office, sympathy floating around in your eyes. He worked tirelessly to get the paperwork in before the deadlines, more than everyone combined but you never saw him go home. You lovingly referred to this as being “married to his work” when joking with the team.

Before leaving one night, you decide to bite the long shot bullet suspended in the air, you knock on his door, a gentle rapping of your knuckles, you step inside.

“Aaron,” You call softly to avoid startling him. He looks up, his tired eyes meeting yours with a flicker of surprise. “need some help? I can look at some expense reports or case reports for you… I know the formatting like the back of my hand…”

He brushes a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the fatigue that seems to hang over him like a heavy fog. “That’s really generous of you, but I can’t impose more work on you. You’ve all been putting in so much already.”