It was finally here. Iris clamped her eyes shut, hoping and wishing that she could erase every June 16th from the calendar altogether. It was a foolish thing to think, and it didn’t change anything one way or the other. What a silly thing to wish for, she thought to herself. Iris wiped sleep from her eyes and stared up at the popcorn ceiling of her apartment. Come on, you really need to get up now. You’ll be late for work if you linger.

Iris gave in to reason and sat upright on the couch in the living room. She never made it back to her bed last night. More dreams of that strange alien planet kept waking her up again. This time, she followed a small band of bird-like creatures to their lean-to village at the base of the valley. The scent of cooking meat and foreign herbs tickled her nose. Iris followed along as her host body was vying for the attention of a particularly impressive-looking male of her species, but she wasn’t having any luck.

Poor thing, Iris frowned internally. Looks like neither one of us… Her mind trailed off.

The insistent trill of her cell phone alarm had the final say in the matter. Iris doffed the scratchy knit chevron blanket and braced for another morning at GC&S. It was no small feat, finding the resolve to get out the door. Even after brushing her teeth, Iris’s mouth tasted like ashes and burnt copper. Nothing in the kitchen looked appealing to eat, so she grabbed the familiar coffee tumbler and a granola bar before preparing to leave for the bus station. The sky was thick with a conspiracy of rain clouds, covertly threatening to dampen everyone’s day. Iris was sure to grab an umbrella and sketchbook to add to her office bag.

She almost immediately regretted not packing something else to eat and took pains to slowly nibble at the granola bar during her commute. Today’s ride seemed purposefully bumpy and unpleasant. Iris’s eyes narrowed as her motion sickness worsened. It was certainly due to the surly bus driver’s careless maneuvering today. Half-jokingly, Iris tried to see if she could send a telepathic signal to the driver to make him slow down. That, or light his hair on fire. Either would have been an improvement. Iris chuckled weakly and was grateful she found some humor on so gray a day.

The rain finally made its debut as she was getting off the bus at the Office District station. She desperately clutched her bag to her chest and made a mad dash to the revolving door to avoid the downpour. She crammed into the glass door, smashing against the glass to avoid encountering the other occupants. Iris managed to squeak past the morning mob, only to find Mr. Maker in the elevator as she made her way through.

“Ms. Alcazar? Is that you?” he asked, with a thin eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Good morning, sir.” Iris replied. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Your hair, it’s… different.” Warren offered.

“Yes, sir. I got a haircut yesterday.” Iris could sense an awkwardness in their interactions and was grateful that the elevator began to fill with more people as they went up to their floor. Unfortunately, one of the new arrivals was Mr. Dämmerung.

“Whoa. What did you do to your hair?” Ryan blurted. “That’s wild. Hey, Warren. Did you see this?”

Warren nodded, then took out his phone to distract himself from Ryan’s antics.

“Thank you for noticing, Mr. Dämmerung,” Iris said, curtly. “I believe this is our floor.” She darted out of the elevator and made a bee line for her cubicle. In her haste, her tattered sketchbook fell out of her bag. Ryan picked it up and called out to Iris, but she didn’t hear him.

“What’s this book, anyway? Looks all beat up. What d’you make of this, Warren?” Ryan asked.

“It’s a sketchbook. I saw her drawing in it once, but she stashed it away when I came into the break room,” Warren offered.

“Whoa, cool. Let’s see what we’ve got,” Ryan replied enthusiastically.

He began flipping pages in the tattered spiral-bound book. Each one had detailed renderings of people, places and things from her dreams. She had tried to group like things together, but some of them were a jumble of random depictions.

One section had drawings of the avian people from the strange red planet, featuring many unbelievable plants, animals, and scenic locations. Another had what looked like a quaint seaside hamlet of some sort of fantasy world. The last resembled a subterranean inferno, cascading with floes of magma and temples of stone and bone that spanned for miles in all directions.

Warren and Ryan admired the sketchbook, wondering what it all meant. It was a muddle of disparate elements, but maybe it made sense to Iris.

“Would you look at that. I didn't know Ingrid could draw,” Ryan jabbed. “Didn't know she had hobbies, to be honest.”

“Well, to be fair, you don’t really know much about her at all,” Warren countered and reached for the sketchbook.

Iris arrived at her cubicle and noticed an unfamiliar lightness to her bag. Looking inside, she tensed in surprise to discover that her precious sketchbook was missing. Don’t panic, she thought to herself. Retrace your steps. I’m sure it’s got to be around here somewhere. She returned to the entryway and saw both men pawing her book. Iris’s cheeks blanched as she realized what they were doing.

“Please, please give it back,” she begged. “That book is very important to me.”

Ryan scoffed at the request. “Hey, no need to be so touchy. We didn't ruin your crummy book.” Ryan tossed the sketchbook to Iris, bending the cover while chucking it back at her. She clutched it to her chest and started trembling.

“Thank you,” she rasped. Ryan shrugged his shoulders and began walking away. Warren lingered behind to apologize to Iris.

“Sorry. We didn't know it was private.” He scratched the back of his head with his hand.

“It's okay, sir, I shouldn't have left it out. Please tell Ryan I'm sorry for snapping at him.” Iris nodded and turned away, ashamed that he had seen her sketches.

Warren called back to Iris before she could get away. “Will do. Hey, just so you know. I thought the drawings looked pretty good.” Iris struggled to hide her blushing cheeks.

“Thank you, sir.” She bowed her head and made a hasty retreat to the cubicle maze. In her hurried state, she nearly crashed into Mr. Cavendish. He glanced down at Iris, after she briefly recognized him and apologized.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there,” Iris said. How did he get behind me so quietly? She wondered how anyone as tall and solidly built as Mr. Cavendish could sneak up on someone so effectively.

“It’s no trouble. What are you thanking him for?” asked Mr. Cavendish.

“It uh, it was nothing, sir. He saw something I had done and said it was good.” She tried not to mention that what he had complimented was her sketchbook, and not office work. Mr. Cavendish narrowed his eyes slightly, but otherwise let the comment pass. His eyes scanned Iris’s new haircut.

“Ms. Alcazar, may I have a word with you?” Cavendish asked as he waited for the passing office workers to leave them in peace. “Just a quick question. Can you explain your change of appearance?”

Iris stammered, trying to dredge up a satisfactory answer. She hadn’t thought about how her new haircut might look at the office. “Oh, uh. I checked the employee manual, a-and it, it didn't say anything about prohibiting dyed hair, sir. Is that what you mean?” A sinking feeling of panic set in. Am I in trouble, or not?

“Very well. If you confirmed it in the manual, then I have no objection. One more thing, be sure to file the remaining testimonial product satisfaction reports before you leave today. I want to look them over before tomorrow. You may head back to work, Ms. Alcazar.” He gestured for her to leave and made a mental note of the interaction.

Iris sat back down at her desk and completely deflated. It was exhausting speaking to someone as important as Mr. Cavendish, and she was worried about his displeasure with her appearance and work output. She looked over at her phone to see how much time she had to get her reports done, only to find a text message.

“Hey. Mortgage is due. Send to my account today. ~L”

Iris sighed. Is that all you have to say to me today? She felt like crying, but bit her lip until it started to throb, and transferred most of her fresh paycheck over for the mortgage payment. She hesitated on what to write back, ultimately landing on keeping it short.

“Money sent. Please call if you need anything.”

No response. Iris wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Can I really feel disappointed after all this time? And why today of all days? Does she even care about mom at all? Iris made a motion to slide the phone back onto her keyboard tray, but it vibrated in her hand. Another message. She half expected it to be a response to her text, but her expression melted from that of surprise to sorrow. The text was from Ramona.

“Hey gurl. I’m so sorry to do this, but I gotta close tonight at the salon. Can we raincheck on Busy Bee?”

She knew it wasn’t on purpose. Ramona had a life outside of their friendship. She has bills, responsibilities, commitments… It was a cold comfort to Iris, who had been looking forward to dinner with her best friend.

Hungry, tired and low on funds, Iris auto-piloted through the remainder of the workday. She turned in the reports Mr. Cavendish requested, but otherwise shuffled her way to quitting time like a zombie. It was still raining when she left the office, got home, and collapsed to her knees in the entryway of her apartment. Tears trickled down both cheeks, and she cried so forcefully that her chest and head throbbed angrily. She begged for relief from anyone and anything.

This is so hard. Please, help me. Iris screamed silently to anyone who might hear her psychic cries. Someone. Anyone. Please…

Nothing but silence, punctuated by the rhythmic beating of her own heart in her ears. Iris felt hot, uneasy, and that the world was spinning around her, despite being on the slick linoleum floor. Iris let her head slink up against one of the walls of her dingy apartment and allowed the coolness of the surface to soothe one side of her flushed face. Just when she thought she couldn’t cry any more…

There was a flash of bright, yellowish light all around her. It turned the dusky room into midday for a full second before dying out. This was followed by a terrible, thunderous, deafening sound, presumably coming from the spare room at the back of her tiny apartment. Iris bolted upright at the commotion, head spinning from the sudden change in elevation. What was that? She staggered toward the spare room.

Something was in there…making strange, crashing noises against walls and shelving. It sounded desperate, violent, deranged. Iris felt tremors of panic rising from within. What’s going on in there? Her fingers felt trembling and numb as she reached for the doorknob and turned it to open the door. It flung open on its hinges.

What the Hell? It’s… It’s not possible…