My Silence
Jenna’s scream still vibrated in my ears. Mark’s pale, panicked face burned onto my retinas. That half-open zipper branded my mind. Nausea surged, bile stinging my throat. I clamped a hand over my mouth, teeth grinding, forcing it down. A coppery tang filled my mouth. I looked at neither of them. Not a word. Mechanically, I turned. Walked out of that vile office. Behind me: Jenna’s harsh gasps, Mark’s choked, ragged breathing. I reached my desk, picked up my bag and coat. Movements precise. Walked straight to the elevators, pressed 'Down'.
The Confrontation
How I endured the rest of that day escapes me. Like an automaton: emails, spreadsheets. At day's end, colleagues trickled away. Mark finally shuffled to my cubicle. Tall frame casting a shadow, head bowed, fingers picking at the partition edge. "Linda…" His voice grated like sandpaper. "Today… this afternoon…" I stopped packing my bag. Looked up. My gaze unnerved him further. Words stuck in his throat, flushing his cheeks. "What did you want to say?" My voice was unnervingly level. My calm clearly caught him off guard.
The Absurd Excuse
He swallowed, avoiding my eyes, struggling. "What you saw… wasn’t what you think…" He licked dry lips. "Jenna… her dress zipper got stuck. In the back… I was just helping… really…" His voice faded, devoid of conviction. He didn't believe it himself. "Zipper stuck?" I repeated flatly. My calm flustered him more. "Yes! Exactly! The zipper!" He seized the lifeline, words tumbling out unnaturally fast. "She couldn't reach, panicking! Her new dress! Ask her! Honestly, Linda, believe me! I was just helping! Nothing else!"
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Jenna’s scream still vibrated in my ears. Mark’s pale, panicked face burned onto my retinas. That half-open zipper branded my mind. Nausea surged, bile stinging my throat. I clamped a hand over my mouth, teeth grinding, forcing it down. A coppery tang filled my mouth. I looked at neither of them. Not a word. Mechanically, I turned. Walked out of that vile office. Behind me: Jenna’s harsh gasps, Mark’s choked, ragged breathing. I reached my desk, picked up my bag and coat. Movements precise. Walked straight to the elevators, pressed 'Down'.
The Confrontation
How I endured the rest of that day escapes me. Like an automaton: emails, spreadsheets. At day's end, colleagues trickled away. Mark finally shuffled to my cubicle. Tall frame casting a shadow, head bowed, fingers picking at the partition edge. "Linda…" His voice grated like sandpaper. "Today… this afternoon…" I stopped packing my bag. Looked up. My gaze unnerved him further. Words stuck in his throat, flushing his cheeks. "What did you want to say?" My voice was unnervingly level. My calm clearly caught him off guard.
The Absurd Excuse
He swallowed, avoiding my eyes, struggling. "What you saw… wasn’t what you think…" He licked dry lips. "Jenna… her dress zipper got stuck. In the back… I was just helping… really…" His voice faded, devoid of conviction. He didn't believe it himself. "Zipper stuck?" I repeated flatly. My calm flustered him more. "Yes! Exactly! The zipper!" He seized the lifeline, words tumbling out unnaturally fast. "She couldn't reach, panicking! Her new dress! Ask her! Honestly, Linda, believe me! I was just helping! Nothing else!"
NEXT >>
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