The Void

I felt her hands, lightly at first, on my shoulders, her thumbs pressing against my shoulder blades

When I walked by her desk, she looked stricken. I retraced my last steps and asked, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said.

“What’s up?”

“Things aren’t going well at home.”

I sat up straighter, my eyes closed

“Hey — is anybody sitting here?”

I looked up from my iPad. I was eating by myself at the company cafeteria, catching up on other people’s blog posts.

“No — help yourself. How have you been doing?”

“Oh, better. Getting used to the new apartment, and the longer drive.”

“Where did you end up at?”

“Greystoke. You should come see it…”

I felt her hands sliding down my arms, then, very lightly, her lips touching the back of my neck – This can’t be happening

The team from overseas was sending the file within the next few minutes; four or five hours work lay ahead. It was already eight thirty at night, but this had to be done before morning. One of guys from accounting had run out and gotten us dinner an hour before, he was stopping by to say goodnight.

“Don’t stay too late, you workaholic.”

“Is anyone else still here?”

“Just me…” I heard her say, as she walked up behind him.

… This can’t be happening — “Sshhh,” she said

I retraced my last steps and asked, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said.


Note: This is a work of fiction. — S.B.

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

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