Shape of the Sun

Overdraft

Manmeet paced back and forth on the patio's tiled floor, the potted plants and flowers that adorned the setting not providing the relief they usually did. 

How could she find it in her to admire them when her mind was filled with so much anxiety? And why wasn't Rajkumar returning her phone calls?

"Could he be in some kind of trouble?" she whispered against her better judgment only to shake her head in a bid to cool off.

No. In a situation like this, she had to be calm. She had to be calm. Manmeet sunk into the nearest chair and nervously tapped the rest with the edge of her phone. What was the matter with him?

Two hours ago, she had been on a shared phone call with her parents and Gunjan, discussing the wedding when Rajkumar's came in. She had hurriedly informed them and terminated the call so that his could go through - only to hear him whisper a bunch of incoherent things.

Her fiance had been crying uncontrollably and amidst his tears, Manmeet struggled to make sense of his jumbled words, preoccupied with attempts to pacify him despite her confusion. But the portion that she did understand was troubling. It replayed in her mind like a wound-up gramophone.

I have done wrong, Mannu. I have committed a sin. I am to blame. I am to blame.

What was it that he had done wrong? Was she the sin? Did he mean something else?

She agitated a fistful of russet hair, a pool of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach and coursing through her being, prickly heat. It was ironic how such a connotation threatened to ravage her. Perhaps, it was the stain of sulfur that caused her eyes to burn.

In her search for balance, Manmeet sharply exhaled, willing herself not to cry and her brown eyes furtively darted the confines of the patio, finally coming to rest on a potted plant of lilies a few feet away. The dark even texture hankered for her on sight and she wanted to yield to the cravings that she had thought she had garnered enough willpower to fight. Resistance stifled peace.

Her phone left on the seat, Manmeet gingerly lowered herself onto the floor so that her raised belly safely faced forward, arms gripping parts of the chair until they were pressed flat beside her and used its legs as support and propulsion to the pot, a starting point for roughly pushing forward on her posterior. She had just scooped some soil but stopped mid-way to her mouth and returned it to the pot, a sudden feeling of external discomfort washing over her.

Manmeet felt like she was being watched and invaded even when a scan within her range of sight tendered otherwise. Perhaps, it was high time that she left.

*********************************************************************

Heroes' Bank, London.

Vigilance was a universal value. Whenever things felt wrong, it was acceptable to attempt a return to order. Perhaps, even end everything if the circumstances called for it.

Mike Shroeder shook the mouse on its pad so that the cursor bounced around the monitor. He was regretful, an emotion temporarily overpowering the wry melancholy of yet another break past him. It was never easy to lose loyal customers like Mr. Raj. He believed that the man had said he was permanently relocating to India or something...

"Mike."

"Uh, yes?"

The stodgy man swiveled his chair with surprising energy so that he was face to face with a lanky man with warm olive skin and drooping eyes that gave the appearance of shifty. But it wasn't like this coworker was the definition of wholesome either.

"Paul? Do you need anything?" His cubicle felt cramped all of a sudden.

"Not really. I just thought that it was odd to still be in. It's our break period, you know?" he paused to peep at the screen, "Have a ton of work?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Raj has requested the closure of his account...and I also have to deal with a strange credit to it just this morning. I may have to refer this to the higher-ups and the police..."

"There, there. Is there any need to do that?"

Mike frowned at the question. What did it mean?

"What do you mean, Paul? This might be something pretty serious."

"Mike, I perfectly understand and I am not saying that you shouldn't put a cap on this. I apologize if I wasn't clear." The man waved his hands as if to put a gesture to his words, "What I meant to say is that there is no need for you to do this. I am fine with taking on such a task."

Huh?

"...." 

Ugh.

Mike purveyed that greasy smile once more and was suddenly reminded of why he had always found this man off-putting. He guessed that it was promotion season.

Crazy bootlicker. Tch.

His rising irritation couldn't be helped. But neither was this situation becoming dicey.

"Uh, I don't know if this would work. Mr. Raj did personally put me up to this..."

"I know but I can equally do it, can't I?"

"...Yes, you can."

"And you can get your breaks while I can rack all the credit that I need. It's a win-win, no?"

That smile felt shittier with every passing second. Mike wished he could leave his cubicle.

"...I guess you are right. But are you sure?"

He didn't particularly care for a promotion but he would rather there wasn't a mistake. Paul replied in the affirmative, that pasty smile still plastered on his face. Mike thought that he'd get sick.

"Yes. I am very sure, Mike."

"Ugh, okay." he forked out his most professional smile, "Many thanks for this, Paul. I am rooting for your promotion."

"Why thank you, Mikey."

Mikey? 

Damnit, you weirdo. Mike turned to his monitor and found it rather therapeutic. He didn't trust himself not to flip and risk any further breaks. That and office gossip went that Paul was related to some woman up in the bank hierarchy.

"I will send you the details in an encrypted mail. Mr. Raj would prefer immediate action."

"Of course. The customer is always king."