5
Maybe I spent the betterpart of a meeting staring at the conference room windows behind my boss, wondering if it would open more than a three-inch crack, or at least wide enough I can shove my computer out and watch it fall six floors, then smash to itty bits on the pavement.
“Janice?”
And then once this plan succeeds, I would go get Khent’s computer, and do the same. Evidence obliterated, in theory.
“Janice.”
I can imagine there’s OSHA related reasons we don’t have windows that open all the way, but then again I’ve never noticed this company’s particular dedication to OSHA compliance.
“Jaaaaanice.”
I blink a couple times, realizing I have been gnashing the end of my pen between my molars, and absolutely zoned out.
I drop the pen and look up at my boss. Melanie’s got her arms crossed and a look of mild concern on her face.
“Thought you’d gone catatonic on us,” she says, suppressing a laugh.
“Oh. No. Just, uh, thinking,” I shrug, the weakest excuse I could probably come up with.
She nods to Bill. “We were just saying some of the personnel files need to be updated.”
Bill continues for her, in his soft, ancient voice, like two pages of an antique book rustling together, “There’s certain distinctions to be made after a tax law was altered a year ago. Some employees never updated their tax status to reflect it.”
I nod along, and lean forward, trying to look engaged. “Was that the law about filing single or married after undeath?”
“Yes, I believe the part that confuses people is that if you’ve been reanimated by a necromancer, you are allowed to actually file as their dependent. Not everyone fills that part out correctly.”
Normally I adore Bill. Honestly, this whole office would fall apart without him constantly checking that everything was in shipshape. But right now, listening to him talk while low-key squirming under the, ahem, symptoms, of Blood Fever is about as uncomfortable as it gets. Maybe I need to email Gwen about working from home for a bit, actually.
“Uh, while we’re updating things, we should look into updating any outdated training material,” I tack on, clearing my throat and sitting up straighter.
It is a bit of a topic change, and probably shows that I have absolutely no mind for this topic right now.
“We’ll circle back,” Melanie nods, though by her expression I think that means she’s going to swing by my office for a little one on one time.
I leave the meeting cringing at myself, and mildly ticked that we couldn’t have gotten that done in an email.
It’s cooler outside the meeting room, where it felt like I was marinating in my own bubble of horny thoughts. Walking around has helped me think a little clearer. I don’t need to despair over the thought of what might happen now that I’ve been caught searching porn at work. Besides, with our non-functional windows, my hare-brained plan won’t work.
I’m not ready to chat with Melanie about my zoning out yet, so I’m resigned to pacing around the hallways and up and down random staircases to work off my feelings.
I don’t think she knows about the porn search yet. She was definitely in too good of a mood for that conversation. Unless that’s what she really wanted to ‘circle back’ to.
Unease bubbles in my stomach like a bad tuna sandwich at the thought. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to cut and run from a job. I’ve learned how to be prepared for the floor to fall out from under me. I always keep an up-to-date resume, I have a list of references I know will say good things about me, and I always have an eye out for job listings. Having worked in HR, I know all the tricky questions that get asked in interviews, how to dodge all the wrong answers, and the right moments to drop a couple corporate buzzwords.
I make it a few floors down before I realize I’m not alone in the stairwell, there’s a voice coming up from a lower landing. I stop short when I recognize it, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.
I peer over the railing, catching a glimpse of Khent two floors down, with a cell phone up to his ear.
“I am not going to bring up couple’s therapy. Ma, I can’t. Humans don’t do things like we do. Bonding isn’t... important to them. It isn’t a thing at all to them,” Khent was saying, and immediately there’s an outburst on the other side of the phone, more than one voice speaking over top of each other. Khent holds it away from his head a moment, turning the call volume down.
“Anyway. It was just an accident,” he says.
One of the vents kicks on behind me, and I feel the brush of air against my skin. Only moments later, Khent stiffens. He turns and his eyes meet mine through the slice of space between the floors.
All the hairs on my body stand on end.