“Has anyone seen the WanderWell file?” said the supervisor, irritable from the continued frenzy of the office staff. Here they all were, deadlines approaching, and the only constant, other than the search itself, was that everyone was turning up empty handed. The supervisor loathed gaps in productivity. She was lenient about the regularly scheduled breaks for the staff, since by law she had to be, but the chaos that had befallen her department was enough to make her want to fire everyone for negligence. All this for one missing file. Considering that she'd lost her favorite pen, the women's bathroom was still lacking toilet paper despite requesting it from maintenance twice already, and upper management was demanding staff cuts in line with the new AI driven budget priorities, today was shaping up to be a poor one indeed.

Although most of her problems were beyond her control, the pen and the toilet paper weren't anyone's fault. The building had an infestation of prankish little bogarts that were always getting up to shenanigans. In fact, at that very moment, two of the little buggers were redrafting her sales assessment back on her desktop computer. The supervisor was incapable of noticing this, and the only one who could, was occupying herself with a daydream.

Anya hadn't paid any attention to the mania going on around her. In a strange way, it was kind of relaxing to her. However, at the mention of the company name, her attention snapped to the name on the file in front of her. She hadn't been aware she was doodling. It typically happened when her mind started to drift, and exactly when her mind started drifting could only be known to the little bogart who'd once again taken up sitting on top of her monitor. Her eyes met its own dull beady ones, and a mischievous grin flashed across its bulbus face. Quickly, she slid her drawer open, fished out a clean folder and swiftly transferred the documents and the name tag into their new home.

Gracefully rising from her chair, she swept across the floor to her supervisor and presented the file to her with a delicate smile that showed mostly in her eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul, or so she'd heard who knows how long ago, and since then she did her best to push as much of it through as possible. Lazy and absent-minded may have been debatable descriptors of Anya, but no one could even suggest that she was unkind. Her supervisor took it as her eyes lasered in on Anya's. Smile somewhat faded, Anya said, “sorry, I just noticed it,” and turned back toward her seat.

“You couldn't say anything to save everyone a little time?” the supervisor's voice caught her.

Anya looked back at her manager with poorly hidden confusion. “I thought I was saving time by returning it directly to you?”

Anya's coworkers awkwardly shuffled away from the conversation to the relative safety of their own desks. Some were more faint-of-heart and ducked out for the restroom; their empty desks now serving as playgrounds for the other bogarts to shuffle their supplies around.

The supervisor scoffed and gave a sarcastic smile, “Oh, okay. Well, ya know, it would have been more courteous to everyone else here if you would have said something the moment you found the file. You know, like a little, 'found it!' or something along those lines, or would that have taken too much of your time?”

“I suppose it could have taken only a moment,” Anya said only intending to appease. The supervisor seemed so conscious of time, yet this conversation was already the longest part of the process, and Anya longed for the safety of her own desk.

“Oh, you suppose so, do you? Well, how do you suppose your colleagues feel about all of this?” Judging by the mixed reactions of sidelong stares and rigorous typing as though any of this could be tuned out, Anya supposed everyone wished they had the nerve to make a break for the bathrooms instead of trying to merge into their surroundings feeling like a ceilidh of will o' the wisps whose pond had been disturbed. However, she sensed that this was her que to apologize, and so she did just that.

What followed was a hollow and painful silence like the kind heard in footage of the vacuum of space. The supervisor was merciful enough to dismiss everyone back to their work, and Anya retreated to her desk.

“The WanderWell portfolio, huh?” said jake as she passed. “I'm touched to see you taking my advice to heart.” Anya shrugged, barely looking his way.

Back at her desk, Anya found that the little creature dangling its legs in front of her screen had amused itself by hiding her pen. She pressed her palm to her chin and looked back and forth across her desk with exaggerated “hm's” and “ha's”. She reached forward as though to start shuffling her papers around to look for it, then her hand B-lined for the drawer where she elegantly produced her missing pen as though she were a street magician. The bogart narrowed its beady eyes at Anya's smugness, smiled and clapped its hands at her “magic” trick.

“Enough pen clicking, please,” called the supervisor.

Anya apologized again and stared back at the creatures own smug face. She stared at it petulantly and transferred her pen's cap to its back. She recorded her interaction with a corporate client before realizing she needed to verify that she had completed it.

With a little actual sleuthing, Anya figured out what task she had left off with before getting distracted and felt relieved that she had in fact finished the WanderWell booking. She submitted her corporate client slip to her supervisor's desk and resumed minding the client board once more, she glanced at the clock periodically hoping lunch would come faster.

For Anya, as indeed for many, lunch was a mid-day oasis where, for a brief moment, she could be at work without the looming pressure that she had to be working.

“Hello, everybody!” Anya sang in her quietly jubilant manner. As she made her way through the breakroom door, the room quieted.

“Hello,” said one person politely. Anya retrieved her lunch from the fridge and popped it into the microwave, ready for the moment to be over with. She couldn't decide whether to smile or to avoid eye contact. They were chattering a moment ago and Anya hoped that they would start talking again.

About a minute and thirty seconds left on the countdown, and more bogarts could be seen tiptoeing across the counters. Bogart infestations were fairly common to business offices. A business was full of interrelated tasks that ranged from simple to complex and most everyone had to put in a lot of effort even for a miniscule turnaround. Add an unhealthy dose of unappreciation, and an office was prime breeding grounds for bogarts. Secretive gossip singling out coworkers wouldn't help matters, but none of them could notice.

“So that was a little intense,” she gave a little nervous laugh, directed at everyone. “Has she thrown anyone else under the wagon like that?” She said this to everyone and therefore no one in particular. Thus no one in particular answered, but a few people shrugged. The bogarts all laughed, or perhaps coughed. It was a wet choking sound, but at least they looked amused. One of the associates said, “bless you” absently, unsure as to the source of the noise. One was getting dangerously close to Anya's lunch sack, and she pulled it closer.

A whole minute left, and Anya watched every second tick by with the growing sense that she was unwelcome. The microwave beeped mercifully, and Anya snatched up her containers and briskly left the breakroom. “See you back in the office,” she said over her shoulder hoping to sound cheerful. She rounded the corner and leaned next to the door frame to catch her breath just outside view of her coworkers.

“She seemed so nice, but she only ever seems to want to gossip!”

“Yeah, and did you notice how hard she tries to make herself sound smart? Even though she barely gets her work done! She spends her time sitting at her desk staring at the wall.”

“Next time, tell her if you don't want to be here then why are you here?”

“Or, if I need advice, I'll pull up NaviSage.” A chuckle followed.

“Yeah, we're here to work, honey, not here to socialize.”

She felt her eyes sting with her urge to illuminate their hypocrisy as she soundlessly slunk away.

Finally out of ear shot, Anya considered their words. She could just leave. From the way everyone spoke, they would probably get on better without her. If she was causing them so much trouble, was it worth the strain on her nerves to continue trying here? She could find another job in a week. She was sure of that, but no. She would not abandon the people she was already contracted to assist. If they decide it's time to move on without her, that's one thing, but she's never abandoned a post.

She nodded resolutely and steeled herself for the rest of the day to come, then looked back to her lunch. Her fork was missing.

Those little beady-eyed assholes have it easy.

The rest of the day Anya spent at her desk. The bogart apparently decided to find more mischief somewhere else, which was just fine by her. Trying her best to ignore the burning sensation in her eyes, she poured all of the focus she had into her work. She was so focused on waiting to get out of the office, that she forgot to keep track of the time.

“I'm glad you're still here.” It was her supervisor, “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Abruptly, Anya's stomach sank, and her throat knotted itself up into her chest. She nodded and followed her supervisor into the next room.

“There's no easy way to say this,” she began, and with that kernel of communication, all of Anya's fears were confirmed, and she wished that her former supervisor would just let her pack her things and leave. She'd given so much to this company, down to the very fabric of her existence. How much more could she give? “but upper management has deemed it time to make employment cuts to better fit our new budget priorities. We have given it a lot of consideration, and we think you'll have a good chance at finding employment elsewhere. We'll provide you with five sealed recommendation letters. They should arrive in your mail by the end of next week. You don't have to come in tomorrow. Someone will handle your remaining open assignments.”

"What do you mean by any of that?”

“What part did you not get?”

“LogiPulse started offering on stie activity recommendations and package add-ons after seeing me go out of my way to look for them on NaviSage. I think I played a pretty big role in making your pet program the success that it is today.”

“That is a good point, so I'm going to recommend that you put that on your resume.”

Anya had nothing to say to that. The growing pressure in her chest urged her to cry out, begged her even, but she managed to nod respectfully to her former supervisor. She seemed to have already left the conversation judging by the shape of her smile. Quickly and quietly, Anya strode back to her desk and packed her things into her tote bag. She hadn't bothered to put any effort into personalizing her space, so there wasn't much to pack besides her favorite pens and some reading material. The bogart watched her. The little creature almost looked concerned, and it made the tightness in her chest subside to a dull ache. "Try not to give them too hard a time,” she said under her breath and forcing a smile that made her eyes burn.

The sky was overcast, shrouding the city in a darkness that felt akin to late dusk. The sidewalk was stained with wet polka dots that appeared few and far between. New spots appeared at random, and Anya hurried to the nearest bus stop. Sharp air cold and damp stung her already irritated lungs and throat.

She made it to the bus as it was boarding and took out her phone searching for job listings. She would have a new job by the end of next week; she was sure of that, but her last paycheck wasn't quite going to cover this month's expenses. Anya swiped at the screen, trying to input keywords for her next job search, but the trembling in her hands and AutoCorrect's constant insistence at being helpful was making everything come out wrong. A firm pit-pit-pat sound, and she looked out the window in time to see the downpour.

Anya had always loved rain. There was a cleanliness to it. An organic forest would smell fresh with is as the pale green of new growth would stretch, racing to be the first to greet the next rays of sunshine. This evening, in this concrete labyrinth, the sensation was different somehow. Events not so much being washed away as being smeared across a chalk board; a purpose once clear, reduced to a stain in memory. Anya watched the rivulets run across her reflection. Inhaling sharply, she wiped her own tears away looking back to her phone. She would have 10 applications submitted before her stop.