Sheila

Heavy lidded she'd shucked down a couple of aspirin too, but this was a brain thud that was here to stay.

Her mouth felt like a dried out flip flop.

One that you see washed upon a beach, somewhere warmer than here.

Somewhere where more people smile.

Natural smiles. Not ones painted on and forced to the point of aching cheeks.

Last night had not been the smartest of choices. Sheila had gone to the staff drinks. The incredibly basic invite had sat in her inbox for weeks before she'd clicked the RSVP and even then, she'd done so purely to show that she gave a hoot about spending more time with the work crowd than she did.

Sheila could not account for the last 5 minutes. It was like an out of body experience.

But surveying her workspace it was clear that something had happened.

An episode of sorts.

Her screens were smashed. The keyboard was crumpled and cracked, flung as it was into the bin. Peeking out like the stern of the Titanic.

Or a shark's fin.

Though Sheila could see that a few of the black pieces, white characters, were lined up on her desk...like scrabble, she could not fathom why.

They spelled out a rude statement...you know, the one with F and Y... but due to the fact that there was just the one U, it spelled the second word as YO.

Sheila smiled at this, as it made her seem more gangster. Sheila's brain was relaying the previous night in slo-mo, freeze frames.

She'd relived the awkward silences, the clammy handshakes, the half-hearted hugs.

She'd heard the insipid speeches a dozen times on loop already.

Sheila once more mentally dodged the crotch leans and the manspreading.

She'd smelled the bad breath and too much cologne as if it were last night.

Again.

She remembered the toilet roll stuck to her feet on her shoes that 'farted' as she walked.

No matter how she walked.

The CEO's flies being undone.

The wipe of the mouth by Agatha. The latest soon to be former EA.

She remembered talks of projections, and roll outs. She recalled all the little gestures. Remembered who slunk off with whom.

The politics and the smart moves.

The stifled yawns and the faked guffaws.

Heads back and open mouthed. Like donkeys baying at the moon.

Around Sheila's feet, aside from the cables and casings, shards and slivers of glass crunched and scrunched on the coarse carpet.

Sheila retched at the memory of another lick of salt and bitten lime.

Sheila had searched for the procedure. The one that used to be on a shared drive but was now on a work sharing app.

She'd forgotten the password.

Guessed too many times.

Was locked out. Literally and figuratively.

Sheila was late for the reset.

She'd missed three key updates.

Sheila had grasped at the back of the filing cabinets. Way back deep. Back past the merch. that no one wanted and the
clinking whisky bottles of the midday pick me uppers and found the dog-eared old-school guide.

She flicked to the section labelled "ALL THE WEATHER".

She'd used her elbow to smash the glass, and she'd pulled the lever.

And now as the lights whirled and the sirens blared, Sheila finally felt at peace.