The Downward Spiral

One

"Today is your last day."

Five words I wasn't expecting to hear. The temperature dropped around me, a chill sweeping through the room and brushing over the bare skin of my arms. I stared at him silently, the steady pulse in my chest moving upward and into my head, pounding there steadily. I was dizzy as he sat across from me, unflinching. Sharp, beady little eyes peered at me as I fidgeted in my seat, a hot flush spreading up my neck and over my face like a slow poison.

Staring down into my lap, at my fingers curled together tightly, I swallowed hard against the dryness of my throat. "I...I don't understand."

"You're just..." he paused for a moment, sucking on his teeth. It was an infuriating habit he was known for around the office, the wet noise like nails on a chalkboard whenever he'd stroll by. It was a sound he'd always make when he was thinking. When he was about to spew something absurd, something unbelievable.

When he was going to lie.

My body stiffened more, if that was even possible, as I braced myself while the frumpy man in front of me struggled to find his words. I felt his eyes prick into me again even as I kept my focus downward, the thrumming noise in my skull a low hum. "It's not a right fit. You aren't a good fit."

I inhaled slowly, nodding to myself. Willing myself to look upward, the question slipped from my lips before I could stop it, "Is there anything I can do? Would I be a better fit somewhere else here?"

He looked away from me and at the quiet woman sitting beside me. I'd forgotten she was there, her small frame rigid in the chair and her empty stare focused on her lap as mine just had been. She hadn't spoke a word, and I knew she was the person who'd put this in motion. I knew it was her.

Slowly, her head shook back and forth. Her eyes still wouldn't lift to meet mine.

Coward, I wanted to tell her.

"I think you've known this," the man continued, his voice grave. "That this hasn't been a right fit for awhile, I mean."

He was trying to convince me that this was all for the best, I knew. Trying to soften the blow. I'd known for awhile that I was miserable, that was a certainty. But for them to tell me this - when I'd been a loyal worker for over four years - this was the ultimate betrayal.

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "I understand," I lied, my voice trembling. Fresh tears warmed the corners of my eyes and it took everything in me not to let them spill out. Hold it in, I silently begged myself. Wait until you're outside.

Don't let them see you cry.

My heart lurched as I pushed my chair out, my vision foggy and a numbness spreading through my chest. This is it.

"I really do wish you the best of luck," he spoke up again, his hand extended out towards me. The woman who'd nailed the final piece in the coffin that was my job offered a tight-lipped smile. She still wouldn't look at me even as she led me out to my desk.

"Can you leave your passwords," she said robotically, hovering behind me as
I scooped my jacket and keys up from my desk. My entire body was on fire, the heat in my cheeks and ears unbearable. The discomfort was nothing compared to the eyes of my peers on me, though. True humiliation was a different kind of pain, something deep and unwavering.

"Sure," I managed to respond, scribbling my computer's password on a loose leaf of paper near the little mug that held pens. It was a bright red mug with the words "I❤️NY" printed across the front in black lettering. It was a gift I'd received from George two years ago, when he had arrived back from a trip with his girlfriend. After sliding the piece of paper over to my former boss, I picked the mug up easily, dropping it into the opening of my bag.

Shît, I thought to myself. I'd have to walk by his desk on my way out - I never wanted him to see something like this. I could walk the other direction, weaving around the accounting department. He wouldn't see me then.

Moving in quick, unsteady steps, I made my way for the front lobby where the both of them had agreed to meet me. I'd been told it was to be escorted out - whatever the hell that meant - and that my badge would have to be surrendered at the main reception desk.

I stood in the open area, rubbing at the clip of my badge dangling from the front of my dress pants. It was difficult to ignore the glances others would slide in my direction as they passed. I knew they'd whisper amongst themselves once I was out of sight.

There's the failure, they'd murmur in their right-knit groups.

Failure.

The word burned the back of my throat as the familiar feeling of hot liquid formed in the lining of my eyes again. No..

Don't cry.

Not here.

Finally, in a rush of something in between fury and despair, I moved forward, unclipping my badge and tossing it on the top of the front desk without giving so much as a single glance at the older woman sitting there.

Moving outside, the air bitingly cold and especially vicious against my wet cheeks, a choked sob escaped my mouth.

And then the tears fell.

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