I reach for my phone, meaning to check messages, and freeze. There’s a new text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hey. The firewall was acting up after you left. I think it misses you. I’ve wrangled it into submission. You’re all set for Monday. This is Greg by the way. From work. The IT guy.
A shiver goes down my spine, and I quickly add his name to my contacts.
Sean: How did you get my number?
Bouncing dots appear, and then:
Greg: Just good ears.
More dots.
Greg: Plus all employees provide their cell phones as part of the company emergency management policy. It was one of the bazillion forms you filled out.
I stare at the screen, the same mix of irritation and warmth bubbling up. Of course it’s him. Of course he’d find a way to fix something before I even asked.
I should be annoyed. I should draw a boundary, or at least pretend I don’t like that he’s thinking about me outside of work hours.
Instead, I reply.
Sean: You really need a hobby.
Another pause. More dots as my chest flutters.
Greg: I’ve got one.
Sean: Oh yeah?
Greg: Making sure you’re okay.
I drop the phone on my chest and cover my face with both hands. My pulse won’t slow down, and there’s this traitorous smile overtaking my face.
“Gods,” I mutter to the empty room. “I am so screwed.”
The phone buzzes once more.
Greg: See you Monday, Sean. Sleep well.
I never sleep well. But tonight, I do drift off with a fuzzy, warm feeling.
4
SOLO QUEST
GREG
On Friday afternoon, the breakroom smells faintly of burnt popcorn and reheated coffee. Everyone swaps weekend plans: movie marathons, hiking trips, brunches, some vague promise of parties I’ll never be invited to. Everyone appreciates the IT guys in the office—just not enough to include us in their extracurriculars. I nod politely, offer a faint smile, and retreat to my desk to grab my bag.
Lance is hunched over his laptop, muttering about a server error. Brill hovers nearby, his glow pulsing slightly with amusement as he pokes at a bundle of writhing, animated cables. “If the backup fails again, I’m quitting,” Lance grumbles.
Brill snickers, a tiny spark flaring off him. “Oh, you’dsurvive… barely. But I’d still have to haul your laptop to safety when it inevitably catches fire.”
I shake my head with a grin.
Us IT guys aren’t exactly the life of the party, but we’re quietly entertaining in our own unique way.
My world is small, structured, and predictable. My family still lives in Korrath, a sprawling orc community that hums with life and history, a long plane ride from Crownpoint. I left years ago chasing a different rhythm. College, computers, a life that felt more like my own.
