Freshly Kissed Neon

The office bells rung.

At last, it's 9pm.

I packed my things up, taking my time in tidying the mess I had on my table. Looking out the windows, the evening twilight shadowed the venus coloured skies — all black with faint lines of red. The gazette was preparing to say goodnight, as well. My co-workers rushed in cleaning their tables, and the cleaning staff started laying out their tools of the trade along the hallways.

"Mr. Brown?"

A woman in her twenties came up to my office desk. Her pristine white blouse and navy pencil skirt was ironed out, a ribbon tie nestled on her collar in a neat, little bow. She looked at me with expectant eyes, carrying a piece of paper on her hand. Her name was Medea.

"Ah yes, Medea. I take it that you've come to see me regarding your approval of resignation?"

She grinned, and gave me a nod.

"For sure, for sure. I have the approval document here somewhere."

I scour my desk for the letter of approval, leaving a trail of important litter in my wake. Couldn't be seen there. My next victim was the cabinets. In my hurry to find it, pieces of paper went flying. Medea only sat down, watching in bewildered amusement over how the messy office became messier. At last, clasped between rejection letters and resumes — I found it.

"Here you go."

With meek hands, she took the letter from my loose grip. Her eyes widened, glistening with the office lights as she laid eyes on the piece of paper. She looked outside the desk. A co-worker of her's — plump, in the same, neat attire as her, kinky hair — stood outside my office. She had a glinting look on her eyes, subdued smiles quivering her lips.

"Say, Medea. You and Melinda submitted resignation applications at the same time. What's up with that?"

She folded the document into a clean square, then shoved it in her suitcase.

"It's mere coincidence, sir. Think nothing of it."

I was about to ask what was it that she meant, but she gave me a quick bow then sped off. Something about it reminded me of a button-propelled toy a child would've played with. Peeking out the office windows, I saw the two of them walking through the rows of office cubicles. The both of them exuded so much joy, laughing as they boarded the elevator together . Before its doors closed completely, I saw a glimpse of Melinda's hand reaching for Medea's cheeks. Greek statues of what historians would've called "good friends".

So that's what it must've been. I've had my suspicions, but this doesn't exactly count as confirmation either. Maybe Medea had something on her cheek, her lunches were dripping in ketchup anyway. Could be a sisterly attempt to console, too. The mountains of paperwork thrown onto Medea dwindled down into mere mounds just a few hours ago. I stopped my train of thoughts from here. For someone in my position to join the office whispers and gossip about people already leaving... How unprofessional.

Still, I slouched on my chair and gazed at the ceiling. What a nice colour it was. Dirty white. Weathered corners collecting dust since no janitor's tools of the trade could reach them. Staring at them does me no good, but I did anyway. Some undeveloped part of me fixated on emptied spaces, mental traffic growing in volume — today's parade celebrating Pride with lovers filling the streets. They snickered, and kissed, rugged hands caressing smooth cheeks as they marched giddily to the horizon. Left me wondering if I could afford therapy next month.

"Get yourself together, Scott."

With two fingers and two hits on the forehead, I grounded myself back to where I was. A blindingly white office, with papers scattered everywhere greeted me back. I really didn't have to be reminded that I'm growing old. My windows in this world are closing, and if I don't act fast enough — I'll have the house to myself. There'll be no one to help me water the daisies in the yard. No children to come home to from a hectic work day. No one to hug me behind the covers on a harsh winter. If I'm being realistic, it's more of an apartment than a rustic cottage in fields of wheat. Helps to play pretend, though.