I spin around to find her leaning over my chair, reading my screen with obvious interest.She’s wearing silver hoops today that catch the light.
“I didn’t subscribe to these,” I say, immediately clicking unsubscribe.
“Of course you didn’t.”She straightens up, giving me a patronizing smile.“Hair loss can accelerate quickly once it starts.”Eve places her hand over her heart like she’s genuinely concerned.“That’s why early intervention is so important.Don’t worry, though.I’m sure you’ll figure it out.
She saunters back to her desk with an extra spring in her step, and I’m left glaring at my screen as more hair restoration emails flood my inbox.
The next day is worse.Much worse.
My email is completely flooded with newsletters from hair transplant clinics, baldness support groups, and companies selling everything from special shampoos to something called ‘follicle-stimulating laser therapy.’
“This is insane,” I mutter, frantically hitting unsubscribe on what feels like the hundredth email.“How did I get signed up for all of this?”
“Maybe your computer got hacked,” Joshua suggests from his desk.“I heard that happens sometimes.”
“Or maybe the universe is trying to tell you something,” Eve adds helpfully, not looking up from her work.“Sometimes fate has a way of forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths.”
I study her, suspicion starting to creep in.The hair strands keep appearing, but only at work.Never at home.Never in my car.Only here, and only when she’s around.
“You know what’s weird?”I say, testing the waters.“I never find any of this mystery hair at my apartment.”
Eve finally looks up, tilting her head with mock thoughtfulness.“Stress-related shedding often happens in high-pressure environments.Like the office.Or maybe your apartment has better lighting, so you just don’t notice it as much.”She shrugs.“Either way, denial won’t make your hairline grow back, Reynolds.”
“Right.Stress.”
But I’m starting to notice things.Like how she always seems to be nearby when I discover new strands.Like how she’s been unusually cheerful all week.Like how she keeps making comments about my supposed hair loss with barely concealed glee.
“You know,” Eve continues conversationally, “some men go through this exact thing.Complete denial right up until reality hits them like a freight train.”
“This is not about denial.”
“No, of course not.It’s about accepting your follicular destiny.”She gives me a pitying look.
I spend my lunch break researching male pattern baldness, trying to figure out if this is normal.Everything I read says gradual hair loss, not suddenly explosive shedding.And definitely not the kind that only happens at work.
Something’s not adding up.
After lunch, I’m ready for another wave of spam emails, but what I’m not ready for is the delivery guy stepping off the elevator with a package.
“Caleb Reynolds?”he calls out loudly, his voice carrying across the entire marketing floor.
“Yeah?”I raise my hand, already getting a bad feeling about this.
The guy grins and announces at full volume, “I have a discreet package for hair restoration products!Advanced Hair Growth Shampoo and Follicle Stimulating Serum!”
The entire office goes dead silent.
Every single person turns to stare at me, their expressions ranging from surprise to barely contained laughter.Flora’s hand flies to her mouth.Steven’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.Joshua snickers.
And Eve?Eve is sitting at her desk, typing away like nothing happened, but I can see the slight curve of her lips which she’s trying to hide.
“I didn’t order that,” I say, my voice strangely strangled.
“Says here it’s for Caleb Reynolds, Marketing Department,” the delivery guy insists, checking his clipboard.“Pre-paid rush delivery.”
“Just...Just give it to me.”I snatch the package from his hands, my face burning with embarrassment.
“Have a great day!”the guy calls out cheerfully as he heads back to the elevator.“Hope the products work out for you!”
