Page 158 of Solanum

"Why?"

"Because…" Anita's voice trailed off for a moment. "She hears me."

"We all do, Anita," I said, my voice softening. "Thank you for being a good friend to Nora. And me."

"Ah. A moment of authenticity from you. I will cherish it."

"Shut up now, bye."

She chuckled and said, "Bye."

I arrived to work as if no time passed. No fanfare, no unusual stares. Just the typical bustling of people flooding through halls like any other day. Only when I showed up in our office space did the welcome wagon gear itself up. Roderick said nothing, only clapping me on the back when I landed at my desk. Jenson, Harris, Chin, and Taylor remained quiet, their eyes glancing at me at different intervals, each accompanied by small smiles.

Nora's empty workspace stood out like the first yellow leaf turning on an autumn-bound tree. Notable, attention-worthy, but completely ignored.

Wilkinson appeared not long after me. I paid him little mind and sat down to clear out the epic number of emails gathered in my inbox. My mind raced despite the innocuous task, and I must've looked at my phone a dozen times in half an hour. Finally, I cracked, and texted Sali.

How goes it?

Her response was to send me back a picture of Nora curled up in a blanket with her head in Maggie's lap. The two of them stared at the television, both appearing equally distracted or entertained, I couldn't tell which.

Did she eat?

Yup.

Okay.

U ok?

Yes.

Good.

And we left it at that for now.

"Donovan," Wilkinson called.

I looked up to see him emerge from his office door, nodding for me to follow him before he headed back inside. Annoyance twisted my gut, and I pocketed my phone before ascending the small staircase to join him.

He stood behind his desk, his fists pressing into it as he leaned forward. I hadn't seen him in a while, but for some reason, he appeared older. Or more fatigued. I couldn't tell.

"Sit." He gestured to the chair by my hip.

"I'll stand." I folded my arms over my chest. "Why did you call me in here?"

"We should have a conversation, Donovan—"

"A conversation isn't necessary. What are our active cases?"

"Donovan—"

"What are our active cases?" The rage boiled my blood despite my attempts to fight it off.

Wilkinson stared at me, his beady eyes steady and calm. He shifted away from his desk to close his office door. "Sit down."

"You, Sir, can go fuck yourself—"

"Sit down, Donovan." He lifted his voice an octave and pointed to the chair in front of me. "Or you can leave."

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