CHAPTER THREE

        As it would turn out, the bittersweet woman’s name is Ashleigh – Ashleigh Mendez. Or at least that’s what her nameplate reads when I finally decide to take a quick gander at it.

        “Hi! You’re here about Dan, right?” she asks; revealing her very pregnant self as she hauls herself to her feet, and extends her hand towards me in a kind gesture.

        “Um… yeah. I believe you said you needed to see me?” I say, taking her hand in one of my own. I try my best not to squeeze it too hard.

        “Yes, of course. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to take a seat, we can get right on down to business; and have you back home in no time.”

        Unsure of what else to do, I do just that; deciding it best to seat myself just to the right of the bittersweet woman, thereby ensuring my body remains diagonal to hers at all times. While I’m busy doing that, she reaches for her things; waiting until I’ve finished situating myself before attaching a single document and a spare pen to a clipboard, and taking a seat behind her desk.

        “Alright. So, as you may or may not already know, Grav-Tech has adopted a somewhat formal legal process when it comes to the death of an employee. That is why you have but one document set before you on this here clipboard,” she says, tapping the clipboard with her free hand before sliding it over to me. “Before you sign it, though, there is something I should probably mention to you first.”

        “Okay. Like what?”

        “Well, by signing this document, you agree to remain silent on any and all matters related to Dan’s death. That means, you can’t go running around the station telling your friends what happened. You can’t post anything hateful, or slanderous, about Grav-Tech on social media. And, most importantly, you can’t file any type of wrongful death lawsuit with the Station Clerk.”

        “And if I refuse to sign?”

        “Then our time together is done, and you leave here with nothing but this box,” says the bittersweet woman as she retrieves an old, withered cardboard box from under her desk.

        “What’s in the box?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

        “I don’t know. Whatever was left in Dan’s locker at the time of his death,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Though, if you sign the document, I can add a few other things including an envelope containing a check for five-hundred-thousand dollars.”

        “Alright. Fine.” Reaching for the pen, I grasp the clipboard in one hand; and sign my rights away with the other. If for nothing else, I could really use the money right now.

        Before I can even begin to change my mind, the bittersweet woman snatches the clipboard out of my hand; filing away the document with record speed. Once she’s done with that, she pulls back the flaps of the box; revealing Dan’s jacket, some personal memorabilia, and a petrified red rose.

        At the sight of the rose, I nearly lose it. After all this time? Why?

        Struggling to keep my emotions at bay, I reach for the box; waiting with a heavy heart as a few sealed envelopes are added to the mix. Then, I make a break for the nearest exit without so much as giving the bittersweet woman a proper goodbye. That’s twice now that I’ve done this to her, but it’s better this way – for the both of us.