After the meeting, Leo hurried back to his office and filled his briefcase and pockets with everything that mattered. His company mug brimmed with cold coffee. He poured the coffee over his PC's keyboard, then threw the mug at a framed portrait mounted on the wall. The portrait was of the company's founder. Both the mug and the glass covering the portrait shattered.
Gossip would travel fast. And fierce. He had to—had to—tell Irene before she heard it from anyone else. Whether or not it would matter, the awfulness coming first from his lips, well, he had to believe it would.
He strode down the hall, ripping off his ID and flinging it at a potted plant. The strap caught on the branch of a violently green Norfolk Pine and dangled his name badge like a horrific Christmas ornament—Leo Gulliby, HR Coordinator, Rubagub Robotics, Inc.
At the elevator, he punched the down button over and over, though the signal lights showed that the elevator was stalled five floors above him.
No time to wait. And the moving coffin would likely be crammed with noisy, nosy Rubagubbers, their mouths sizzling gossip, their dilated eyes shooting schadenfreude.
At him. Dear Lord. This time at him.
He'd take the stairs.
Three flights he pounded down, strode on shaky legs through the lobby.
Behind the reception desk, Nora filed purple fingernails and chewed gum.
"Toodle-loo, Leo!" She blew a gummy pink bubble from pink puffy lips.
He'd hired this creature! Why had he hired this creature? Now he had only himself to blame. The insolence of this girl! Obviously, she'd already heard about what had transpired at the meeting. How could she have already heard? It had all just happened, what, five minutes ago?
Leo reached the exit, stopped, spun around, and shot both his middle fingers at her.
Nora's oversized, over-mascared eyes widened. Then she laughed.
"Well, Lucky Leo, Leo Love, aren't you just full of vim and verve. You know, sweetheart, maybe if you'd shown some of that spunk at," she finger-quoted, "'The Meeting,' you wouldn't be running away like a scared little puppy with those big brown eyes of yours leaking chocolate tears."
Leo blinked, shocked to realize that his eyes really were dripping. He swiped at the tears, relieved to see that they were the normal, human, clear color. Not chocolate. Nora was just punching his buttons. Yanking his chain. She'd never quite forgiven him for ending things with her. Not that there'd been much to end. They'd only had three dates, and then he'd met Irene.
"F – U!" he shouted, and pushed open the thick glass door.
Nora's last words—hopefully the last of her helium-high voice he'd ever hear—were cut off when the door closed: "Drive safe, Leo! The roads are slick and—"
Wind and snow scoured Leo as he ran to the parking lot.
The parking lot was surrounded by a sea of grass, now silked with fresh snow. The snow-silk blanket would stay pure and smooth until melted by sun. No one ever stepped foot on it. Not even geese, squirrels, or rabbits dared trespass anymore. The grounds crew was superb at their job. Leo and Irene had both enjoyed many meals of roasted goose dispatched by the crew. Well, Irene had certainly seemed to enjoy the meat. Leo was not much of a meat-eater, but he'd faked it for Irene's sake. Faking was easy. Except there was nothing fake about his love for Irene.
Irene! She'd understand! She had to! She loved him! She did!
F-the laws that made their marriage a crime! Human history was replete with laws that criminalized what the heart was, what the heart wanted. Humans. Their own worst enemy. But Leo and Irene could be pioneers in effecting change! Yes! That's how he'd frame it for her.
