Page 77 of I Hope This Finds You Well

His forehead wrinkles. “And what did you mean when you said my job is in danger before?”

I sigh and explain the list Rhonda’s compiling of time he spends away from his desk. The total shock that crosses Armin’s expression can’t be real. How could he have caught on to my email ruse but missedthis?

“Gregory’s such a tool!” he grits out darkly. “But Rhonda’s... I didn’t know it was that bad between us.”

“Seriously, Armin, I think you may be in danger for real. You need to stop leaving work without an excuse.”

He combs his hair back with his fingers. “Yeah, you’re right. I just need to keep my head down for a bit more... find a way to just focus in there—but that place, it’s mind-numbing.”

I roll the can of doogh between my palms. “Have you considered doing something else with your life?”

“Have you?”

“Point taken.” I exhale, looking around at all the cardboard. “Speaking of, we should get back.”

He nods and reaches for the door, but before pulling it open, he pauses. “Also...” He turns to look at me, eyes wide and sincere. “I’m sorry I called you weird and stuff, in the chat. I knew there was a chance you were reading at that point, and the way your eyes went...” He pauses, cringing. “Well, that sealed it. But I didn’t really mean it.”

I smile a little. “Thanks.” But a niggling in the back of my mind pulls through. No matter what, there are some people who wouldn’t talk about me like that—not ever. I swallow through my thick throat. At least there used to be.

We start our walk back down the hallway. Just before we turn into the communal area, I pause and I flash him a sly grin. “If I’m to be your official fake fiancée, promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

He rubs his forehead. “Oh god, Jolene.”

Caitlin looks toward us with a huff as we walk back to our pod together. A moment later, there’s an email from Rhonda to herself.

From: Rhonda Staples

To: Rhonda Staples

Subject: New Occurrence

9:15 am: Spent fifteen minutes socializing somewhere with a friend

That shouldn’t make me smile.

Somebody Had to SayIt

The penultimate hour of work ticks along to the beat of the ancient wall clock. Stu Wilkins has been hunched over the printer in front of his pod for the past fifteen minutes, watching sheets of paper spit out in one-second intervals like some twisted form of corporate meditation.

All these people, with their thoughts floating so close, sitting beside one another in complete silence.

Nobody ever randomly screams during these moments—a phenomenon that should be studied.

Stu’s printer beeps, begging for more paper. He leans far too close, pulling on his reading glasses that hang from his neck, and rubs his head like he’s trying to interpret ancient scripture. Right, it’s time to call the time of death for the workday.

As if on cue, the main-floor door beeps and in walks Randal the security guard. Security personnel come to workspaces only for big issues or to let maintenance in to work on the mostly ornamental thermostats.

As Randal turns down the hall, Garret comes running across the floor. “Somebody’s locked themselves in an office! Somebody that was let go!” he shouts, sounding a little too delighted by this drama.

Rhonda snaps her gum. “Oh dear.”

Quiet murmurs move through the room, heads peeking up from cubicles like face cards from a Guess Who? board. A few bolder types storm toward the hallway where most of the offices are, but Randal holds up his hands and guides them to stand back. “Everyone, please stay in your workspaces until the situation has been resolved.”

Randal has a sheen of sweat on his forehead; this is the event of his career. Normally this is the type of chaos I have a soft spot for, but after today, I’m just not up for it. So I stay at my desk.

Then comes the email.

From: Larry Goodwin