Prudence

Chapter 3

As a part of the administration office, I find myself granted a special excuse for orientation week, a perk that allows me to assist Becka in proofreading the dean's speeches for various early-year events. While the job may be mundane and tedious, my heart yearns for a different role during orientation week – one that would place me amidst the festivities and reunite me with someone special: Ezra.

The prospect of being at the orientation fills me with excitement and longing. I find myself constantly daydreaming about the chance encounters, the stolen glances, and the precious moments that could transpire if I were there. Each word I proofread for the dean's speeches becomes a mere backdrop for the vibrant tapestry of possibilities that could unfold at the orientation.

My thoughts wander back to Ezra, whose presence has ignited a spark within me. While my current assignment keeps me occupied, I can't help but feel a tinge of envy for those who will be part of the orientation. A fleeting glimpse of Ezra's smile, the sound of her laughter, or the warmth of her touch could make even the most mundane tasks feel like bliss. And yet, here I am, poring over speeches that, in comparison, seem insignificant.

Today, as I walked into the office, I was greeted with a startling and somber piece of news. Zita Zaklaya, one of the receptionists in our office, was tragically murdered the night before. While I had never personally spoken with her, I was aware of her presence and the role she played in our workplace.

The atmosphere in the office was heavy with grief and shock. Colleagues who had known Zita well were visibly distraught, and the air was filled with hushed whispers and tearful conversations. As I observed from a distance, it became evident that Zita was well-liked and cherished by many.

In the midst of this tragedy, I couldn't help but reflect on my own situation. Working closely with Becka had consumed much of my time and focus, leaving little room to forge meaningful connections with other colleagues. The realization struck me that I had not made any true friends in the office, and I felt a sense of regret for not taking the initiative to do so.

Zita's passing served as a poignant reminder of the value of human connections. It highlighted the fleeting nature of life and the importance of cherishing every moment we have with those around us. It made me yearn for a deeper sense of camaraderie and community within the office, beyond the confines of my daily tasks and responsibilities.

I approached Becka with a sense of curiosity and concern, wondering what had transpired between her and the dean, and why the police officers were involved. The conversation had been discreet, leaving me completely in the dark about the situation. As the dean and the officers departed, Becka's gaze locked onto mine, and she motioned for me to follow her.

We retreated to the pantry, finding ourselves alone together once more. Part of me hesitated, contemplating whether I should be more guarded around her. While I held affection for Becka, I couldn't ignore the fact that her feelings didn't align with mine. I didn't want to invest my energy and time in someone who wouldn't reciprocate those feelings.

"What's going on?" I asked with genuine concern, seeking clarity.

Becka remained silent, opting instead to direct me as she made coffee. "Please grab four mugs," she instructed, her tone practical and focused.

Without hesitation, I fetched the requested mugs and placed them on the counter, waiting for her to divulge the reason for our clandestine meeting. As she poured coffee into each mug, her gaze softened, as if she were grappling with something she wanted to express.

I carefully arranged the mugs on the tray, trying not to let Becka's anger affect me. Her emotions were a mystery, and I didn't want to provoke her further. As I glanced at her, I noticed the simmering frustration in her expression. It seemed best not to engage in anything that could escalate the situation.