Affinity and Vice

Chapter 3

"Glad to see you're still alive," Ravi says when he sees me at my desk. He looks refreshed, unlike last night. His attire is neat, and so is his skin and hair. He's wearing a white shirt, beige pants, white shoes, and his glasses. I've already been here for a few hours and he's just coming in. Must be working somewhere on a story. He sits in the cubicle next to mine.

Our office space consists of our handful of cubicles, the boss's office, a meeting room, a washroom, and a break room. The interior is all earthy brown and green. That's the way Shae, my boss, likes it.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," I mutter, eyes focused on the computer screen. It's a good day today. Cloudy. Not too hot, not too cold. It's the perfect day for an outing. What a shame that I have to sit in a cubicle and write about something I don't even like.

Michelle pops her head over from the cubicle on the opposite side. "Can I expect another anti-romance article from you?" she asks with excitement in her voice. She's our co-intern, though she's a year older than Ravi and me. Michelle loves my snarky commentary on modern dating and romance. My ideas always get rejected though, because Shae is a hopeless romantic. God knows why.

Love is overrated anyway. Look what it did to Aunt Dottie. She was a perfectly fine woman before she met Mark. Mark also seemed perfect in every sense. He was rich, smart, and handsome. A director who came to our small town to shoot a scene for his movie. Dottie was over the moon. But something had to burst her bubble, right? Mark lost his temper one day and hit my aunt. I was in my early teens at that time. I didn't know much about anything, and even if I wanted to save Dottie, she would stop me. She would make excuses for him; and justify his behaviour. She went as far as to get engaged to the guy and would've married him had she not found out about his multiple affairs. Thankfully, Mark exited our lives, though Dottie hasn't been any better since.

Love does horrible things to people. And yet people crave it.

I will never know why.

"I'm afraid not," I say to Michelle. "My rebellious days are behind me." I know better than to piss Shae off again. But I feel drained as I continue writing about something I don't believe in. They want me to teach young girls that there's a perfect out there for them? Never. There's no such thing as a perfect match. And modern dating is worse. Want to find love? Go on a dating app. Get ghosted. Go on the app again. Things don't work out. Back on the app. There's no shortage of single, lonely people. And sometimes, they're not even single! How am I supposed to write about love and how love changes your world for the better, how it's the most wonderful thing in the world when I don't believe in it?

"Of course, you don't believe in it," Ravi says. "Your type is red flags."

"My type is not red flags!" I shout, getting riled up. "You know what," I take a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. I am not dating anyone. My love life is the least of my concerns right now."

And so is this article. The Kind of Love That Makes You the Happiest. I wouldn't know. Friendship, maybe?

It's around 4:30 in the evening when I give up and march into Shae's office. We have had this conversation before. I tell her I can't write about love. It's boring. She says that's what our readers like. And we must always cater to our readers.

"I understand that," I respond. "I do. But we might have something more interesting and worth looking into. I want to do research on this new story. It's about the supernatural presence in this town. I might have a lead that I think I should follow."

Shae leans back in her seat. She always wears pant-suits, and her nails match her outfit. She is bit of a perfectionist, though some would call her rigid. Her office walls are made of glass so she can always keep an eye on us, but she says it's because she wants no secrets or inhibitions between her and her employees. "Harper," she says cautiously. "I enjoy your enthusiasm and passion for such topics, but business is business. I am sorry. You should stick to what's already popular."

Now if you know anything about me, you know I did not listen to her. I finished my boring work and tried to leave the office unnoticed. There were a few curveballs, of course. Michelle insisted on me and Ravi joining her for a party, and before I could come up with a clever or believable excuse, Ravi declined, saying he had a date tonight. I gave him a thumbs up. "Sorry Michelle, I got a lot of work to do. I'm gonna take it home." And that is how I ended up in the woods alone.

I do not know where this witch is, or if that piece of gossip holds any truth to it. But I can look for clues, anything that will connect Finley, the council, and the witch. So I wind up near the warehouse again. 

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