Mike went home after lunch, and Carl spent the afternoon thinking about their conversation. He wanted to go home, but he had one more meeting with Sean in the afternoon.
The meeting with Sean was terrible. It could have been handled over email. Carl resented the fact that he had to be at the office when all he really wanted to do was sort through his feelings. It didn't seem fair that no matter what was going on in his life or what torment he was experiencing, he was expected to be at work, pretend that he was fine, and perform, and all the while the company took things away from him. They took away his desk. They took away his privacy. They took away the kitchen. And they took away his adaptor!
After the meeting, Carl stared at the adaptor on his desk. Its barcode was printed on a plastic sticker that could easily be removed. He thought about peeling it off and returning the adaptor with no barcode. But the email explaining the 'enhanced accessory availability' program had made it clear that employees would be required to reimburse the company for any adaptors they didn't return within a week.
He looked at the time. It was almost three o'clock. He knew Sam always took a break at three.
Carl went to the bathroom, grabbed a sheet of toilet paper, and went back to his desk. He unplugged the adaptor from the power bar, peeled off the sticker, and stuck it to the toilet paper.
He took the toilet paper to the barcode scanner, made sure there was no one around, and scanned the barcode. Then he went to the bathroom and flushed the toilet paper.
He went back to his desk, sat down, and opened the drawer. He was about to throw the adaptor into it when he noticed the block of post-it notes.
He looked around. This was the desk where he had first found the block of notes.
"I hope you found me," the topmost note read.
Carl removed it.
"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to answer you before they took away the notepad," the next note read.
"They took away the notepad?" Carl said to himself. He was about to get up and go check the gender-neutrals, but there were more post-it note messages.
I saved your notes too. I put your cock ring poem on my fridge. It was fun to talk to you. But that's all over now. For me and for the notepad. If you're still around, try to find some joy in this joyless place. And try not to lose hope. It's been fun, but this is goodbye. Take care.
Carl stared at the notes on his desk. He was filled with a sense of loss. It felt exactly like the end of a relationship, even though he knew it wasn't.
He picked up the notes, folded them neatly, and put them in his pocket.
Then he threw the adaptor in the drawer and left.
YOU ARE READING
Missing Things - FIRST DRAFT
General FictionA first draft of a mess about a guy, a pandemic, and an empty office. It's about missing things. One of the things that's missing is a plot. As I said, this is a first draft and it's here for funsies. At some point it'll be taken down because I'll w...
