…and found himself falling from the building, his hair flailing aggressively against the wind. He watched the building as he fell, the Child of Death following him down every floor from every pane of glass.

‘Does that even make sense?’ asked Dylan, who leaned back into his desk chair. ‘But…he has to die.’ Knowing he was behind in his work, the man had thrown himself into a new short story, fueled by an angry desire for revenge against Bryce from two weeks ago. But Dylan cracked a wicked smile as his character split in two on the corner of a moving van. ‘Serves you right for being an ass, Houghton.’

He paused and sighed, closing the document; he noted the time on the digital clock in the corner of his screen. “I have a meeting,” he mumbled, blinking and bringing his gaze back to the computer screen to complete a line of coding.

“Dylan.” He turned to see Chris standing at the entrance of his cubicle. “Our meeting is happening now.” Dylan nodded, collected his things, and proceeded to one of the conference rooms.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” said Stevenson, watching as Dylan sat down. A smartly dressed man on the television monitor glanced over the project crew. “Our web designer just arrived, so we can now proceed to discuss – ” The man’s face froze on the monitor, the smooth image pixelated beyond recognition.

“I couldn’t hear you after the web designer arrived,” the man noted, his voice broken and disappearing for moments as he spoke. The image froze on him gesturing to Dylan sitting in his usual seat towards the room’s left corner; that moment made Dylan stir in his chair. His project partners, even Stevenson, all eyed the web designer.

“This is Travis,” whispered Chris, gesturing to the man next to him. “He’s our project analyst.”

“I know Dylan,” said Travis, grinning. “How goes it, mate?” He and Dylan shook hands roughly.

“I’m fine, Travis,” said Dylan back, rubbing his eyes.

“You know each other?” asked Chris, his eyes darting between the two men.

“We worked on the…‘Henderson Oil’ account together. Like…what, almost two years ago, right?” asked Travis.

Dylan nodded. “That project’s the reason why I hate everything.” His eyes wandered to his other project members –Amber, Chris, and Travis. ‘Well, most everything.’ Then his eyes wandered to Bryce sitting opposite him.

“Sorry, sir,” Stevenson continued. “Now, with Mr. Matthews here, we can proceed to discuss what we’ve done with your startup thus far.” Stevenson turned and gestured to Amber. She stood and produced a poster displaying several different marketing aspects.

“Now, you wanted a, uh, subdued marketing campaign,” Amber explained, pointing to the several graphs that outlined the man’s company’s present financial year. “Unfortunately, your fiscal means of doing so would bring you teetering towards bankruptcy, if the spending amount you’ve quoted to us is correct.” She paused, hoping the man would reply to the comment, but the frozen face onscreen said nothing. “That…” She side glanced Stevenson, who encouraged her to keep going. “…that also means that, with what you’ve wanted – ”

The man glitched, the contours of his face fuzzy like a child’s watercolour self-portrait. The screen turned black, indicating no reception.

This pattern of talking, the screen freezing, the connection lost and repeating continued for another thirteen minutes before the man onscreen sighed. “This is impossible,” he began, fingers pressed against his temples. “I’m not paying to not hear what you can do for me.”

“We can try something else, sir,” said Stevenson.

“No need,” the man replied dismissively. “I anticipate you will be able to drive here for the presentation.”

There was a brief silence before Stevenson asked, “Drive…sir?”

“I’m not going to bother with this awful connection if there’s a chance to listen to it in person.” Before anyone could speak further, the man continued, “If your party comes down for a presentation next Friday, I will pay for one night accommodations.”

Amber attempted to reason with him. “But it isn’t in your financial means t – ”

Stevenson shushed her. “I will email you with an answer by the coming Friday. Is that acceptable?” he asked. The man agreed, and the meeting ended. Those who still had work to do returned to doing so.

“Do you think we’re going?” asked Chris during lunch.

Dylan shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He stuffed some loose crisps into his mouth. “How far away is the startup?”

Bryce entered the Break Room and sat down across from Dylan. “What are you talking about?”

“How far is the startup from here?” Dylan asked.

Bryce shrugged. “Three, three and a half hours?” he suggested, emptying the plastic bag’s contents of food onto the tabletop. “We could make it there and back if we wanted to on a Friday. Why would he want us out there for two days?”

“Maybe there are ulterior motives?” suggested Chris, who unintentionally eyed Dylan as he took a sip from his water bottle.

Bryce sighed and reclined into his chair, sandwich in hand. “What motives? I have to reschedule two birthday dates if it happens.”

Dylan rolled his eyes, the word “playboy” popping into his head. “Poor you,” he replied.

Bryce did not pick up the sarcasm. “Yeah, poor me.”

Two coworkers arrived with their meals. Another arrived shortly after, purchasing a fizzy drink before sitting with their unnamed colleagues.

“Did you Glow with Lauren?” asked Chris, a decision he regretted. Bryce shook his head. “What about Carly, or that girl from the bookshop?” There was a moment where Bryce didn’t seem to remember either; upon explanation again, Bryce exclaimed, “Oh!” before shaking his head. Chris physically withdrew. “How many people are you seeing?”

Bryce, for a moment, took the time to count out the people on his fingers. Four were raised before he replied, “It’s not like I’m looking for my Soulmate. I’m…looking for…what I like.”

“Evidently, it’s using people,” said Dylan, taking a sip of his water bottle.

Bryce looked at him. “Excuse me?”

Dylan blinked. “What? It’s true, right?” Bryce dropped his lunch on the table and leaned back. Dylan switched his gaze to Chris and asked, “Come on, am I the only person who thinks that?”

Chris nodded, though Bryce didn’t see the motion.

“What does that mean, ‘I use people’?” asked Bryce.

Dylan shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. “Let’s start with…why can’t you remember your date’s names?”

Bryce guffawed. “W-why does that matter?”

“Why can’t you focus on one person instead of the four you’re seeing?”

“I’m seeing three,” Bryce corrected.

“But why can’t you focus on one?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Amazing,” Dylan replied, processing the wealth of information Bryce divulged. “So what makes this different from using people? Do you have physical gain?”

Bryce looked away, flushed. “None of your business.”

Chris blushed as well. “Dylan, we’re too public for this.”

But Dylan prodded, curiosity engulfing his thought process. “There can’t be any emotional gain because you don’t remember them.”

Bryce began to shake. “Y, y-you don’t know that.”

“So it’s, like, a distraction?”