“Leave me alone!” I screamed at nothing. At no one. Just a ghost.
The treadmill slowed to a stop, and I bent with my hands on my knees as I caught my breath. Caught myself and my emotions. So I could shove them back into the box I had to lock them in and bury it deep in my soul, where it could fester and rot until it took over all of me. Until the sickness bled out of me, and people wouldn’t be able to look at me without seeing it. I was infected. Contagious.
Beep beep beep beep. Beep bee—
5:00 a.m. Wake up.
I went to go shower. My bathroom smelled like eucalyptus. I didn’t like it.
Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep—
6:30 a.m. Breakfast
I pulled the sleeve of my jacket up to silence my watch, secured my helmet on my bike, and headed upstairs to my office.
Matthew would probably text me when I didn’t meet him in the garage at home. Again. I wouldn’t get it. My phone had broken when I threw it. Didn’t matter. I’d get another one.
Beep bee—
8:00 p.m. Home.
I unfastened my watch from my wrist, turned it off, and shoved it into the top drawer of my desk. Then I went back to what I was doing.
There was a knock at my door after the sky had turned dark, and my office was lit only by the dual screens in front of me. I knew who it was without looking up.
“It’s quite late.” Matthew’s voice seemed cautious.
“Go home, then.”
“But you—”
“I’ll get myself home, Matthew. Go.”
He exhaled slowly. The lights flickered on, casting the monochrome space in a blue-white clinical glow. Much too bright. Much too cold.
I said nothing.
“It isn’t good for your eyes to be in the dark like that.”
I nodded and went back to typing.
Matthew lingered by the door a long moment before approaching the desk. “I made you dinner. I thought… maybe we could eat together?”
My fingers stopped, hovering over the keys. My eyes remained on the monitor without seeing.
“I’m really quite busy, Matthew. Another time.”
“Okay,” he answered, and I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Another time. Well, I’ll leave this here for you, then. Please eat it.”
I nodded, staring blankly ahead as he placed something on my desk and left the room again.
My eyes flicked to the red Tupperware box. It wasn’t the first one he’d left me. It wouldn’t be the last. My stomach twisted. My mind rebelled.
The janitor usually came through at eleven.
I’d give it to her again.
Sunday, and I wouldn’t be going into the office until later. There was somewhere I needed to go first. I’d answered Cupid’s call on his twelfth attempt, thinking that someone had better be dying for him to be blowing up my phone like this. I regretted thethought when I heard what he had to say. People were missing. Coyote was hurt.
