“You did it again!”

“I swear I didn’t.”

After experiencing yet another ‘accidental’ kick to the shins, the long-suffering office administrator levelled a glare at her colleague. She wished their desks weren’t parallel so she wouldn’t have to see his smirk every day. She wished for a spacious office, not this cramped and freezing old building— practically a crypt. To be completely honest, she wished her long-legged coworker were on the moon.

Another dreary day of spreadsheets and coffee breaks. Plus the heating was on the fritz again. Since the clocks went back, the sun set around four which should be illegal, in her opinion. It made her jumpy, the idea of the office lit up from within, anyone at liberty to peer in from outside…

So much of one’s life gets swallowed up by the office, she thought rather gloomily. She sighed and focused on her work, blocking out her colleague’s attempts at small talk. Hours passed slowly. The administrator’s eyes started to blur. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

The unmistakable sensation of a knee knocking her own set her teeth on edge.

“Must you?” she growled at his blurry image, imagining that smug grin.

She went back to ignoring him, using her blouse to polish her lenses.

A more deliberate jab to her shin this time. She barely held in her startled yelp, more of outrage than pain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Gritting her jaw, she jammed her glasses onto her face and snarled: “What is wrong with you…?”

The words died on her lips.

His chair was empty.

She heard the gentle roar of the kettle brewing. The unmistakable sound of her only colleague whistling tunelessly in the kitchen.

“You want one, pet?” he called out, sounding very far away indeed.

“…. Help?”

It came out a barely audible squeak. She swallowed hard, hearing the dry click of her throat, and began to tremble like a falling leaf. Blood roared in her head. It hadn’t been her imagination. She’d felt it. And another one: hard and deliberate, just below her knee. She whimpered, containing her scream. Shakily, she braced her hands on the desk, pushed her rolling chair back those few vital inches so she could bend down and look, look under the desk and…

A lance of pain encircled her ankle as something tightened its grip.

Her scream was abruptly cut off, swallowed by darkness as she was violently pulled under the desk.

#

The colleague shuffled back into the office, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand.

“Peace offering?” He called out, coming round to her side before neatly placing her mug on her sunflower-shaped coaster.

Her unoccupied chair was a couple of feet away from her desk. He straightened it without thinking, then settled back in his own seat and stretched out his legs.

Probably in the ladies’ room. Would be back any minute.

If only it wasn’t so bloody cold in here.

– Laura Stone