Three Months Ago...

Iris sat alone on the worn-out, faded brown bus seat, staring out the dust-speckled window. The bus lurched from stop to stop, and the landscape blended vaguely from one station to the next. Each building was as uninteresting and brutalistic as the one before, and the city became uglier as she traveled to its epicenter. An hour went by in a dissociated blur as Iris became deeply entrenched in the concrete jungle.

It was on her commute to and from work that Iris had a moment's peace, where she could order her thoughts or let her mind wander. Depending on the bus driver, she might have gotten a smooth enough ride to draw in her sketchbook. Unfortunately, Iris started this morning exhausted and too weary to draw. Instead, she lingered on last night's fitful restlessness, and how strange her dreams had been earlier this week. She kept going back and forth on some strange, unfamiliar worlds, until her alarm woke her up.

In her dreams, Iris was unable to interact with anyone or anything, but could use her senses to gather information. She could even smell scents, though not really "breathing," and feel the heat and sting of the harsh winds and weather wherever she was. Troublesome weather wasn't limited to her dreams, as the mid-June morning sun suddenly blinded her, and snapped Iris back to reality.

There were only a few more stops left before the bus would pull up to her company's building. She leaned against the window and looked outside but ended up seeing her disheveled appearance reflected in the glass. Iris fumbled for a hair scrunchy and brush in her bag and drew her long black hair into a haphazard messy bun. The scrunchy became lost in the tangle of damp tresses. She hadn't had time to blow-dry her hair this morning, as she was running late again.

Iris had tried to rest, but sleep would not take her last night. It was just another night in a string of many sleepless nights for Iris. How many was it now? Too many to count. What did they call it again? The “Sunday Scaries?” Iris highly doubted that the feeling extended to a Wednesday. She sighed deeply, finally remembering what the date actually was.

It'll be the anniversary soon. Iris thought to herself. Had it really been that long? Iris twiddled the carabiner on the empty coffee tumbler as she winced. I still miss you every day...

Over the intercom, a mechanical voice crackled the next station. NEXT STOP: OFFICE DISTRICT. It was finally time to get off at the station. The bus halted and hissed like a great angry beast, whistling as the air brakes signaled their arrival. She waved farewell to the bus driver and descended onto the busy sidewalk. Iris looked up at the endless expanse of vertical windows and felt very small indeed.

Street vendors and unhoused people were pressed to the outskirts of the morning mob of faceless office workers heading to their destinations. Iris tossed a small handful of dimes and quarters into a seated man's torn soda cup. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

And here she was, “home away from home” at one of the tallest office buildings in the city. Composed of bluish-tinted glass and steel, it was a glittering monument to corporate success. Thirty-some floors up were the offices of Gabriel, Cavendish & Sparks, where she worked as an order entry specialist for the GC&S Technology division. She should have counted herself lucky to be able to work here. At least, that’s what her supervisor kept telling her.

Iris clutched her old faux leather bag and timidly dove through the revolving glass door as it opened for her. Everything moved slightly too quickly all around her, all the time. The doors and elevators were no exception. She yearned for the quiet, staccato jolting of the bus she left behind. At least it promised to take her safely back home.

Alas, it was 8:45 in the morning, and the bus was a long way away from returning for her. Iris lingered towards the back of the elevator with slouched shoulders, until the last few passengers filled the enclosure. It was becoming cramped in here again, but everyone made way for the important men who were about to enter.

Though the rest were strangers, the last two men were familiar figures. One was her supervisor, Mr. Warren Maker, who carelessly flicked away his cigarette into the bin before striding into the elevator. A man in his late thirties, he stood just taller than Iris with well-groomed black hair, thin manicured brows, and a determined half-smile. Iris thought he always looked like he had a winning hand at whatever he was playing at. From where she stood, Mr. Maker looked like he had the best of everything in life.

The other man was his supervisor, Mr. Alden Cavendish, presently looking at his fancy wrist watch with a detached nonchalance Iris couldn’t get used to. A bit younger than Warren, Mr. Cavendish had a strong jaw, bright auburn hair and piercing glacier blue eyes, not that Iris ever met his gaze to confirm this. He wore custom fitted suits and tailored shoes that exuded opulence. In his right hand was a briefcase that likely cost more than her apartment. Iris took great pains to try and avoid being in his line of sight, as Mr. Cavendish was also known for his critical, indifferent coldness and “all-business” attitude around the office.

“Good morning, sirs.” Her voice peeped but was quickly lost among the vigorous greetings of the other passengers. Mr. Maker continued chatting with Mr. Cavendish, who feigned interest in the decidedly “business” conversation. Something about push-front profits and future-facing technologies? Whatever. Iris wasn't really listening, and neither was Mr. Cavendish. Though skillful in the negotiating room, Mr. Maker was a terrible bore when it came to impressing his superiors with business jargon.

Mr. Maker proved to be a ceaseless windbag this morning. An eternity into the one-sided conversation, Iris rolled her eyes, thinking that no one would see her. She was dead wrong. At the conclusion of her one act of defiance, Iris spotted Mr. Cavendish stifling a laugh.

“What's so funny, huh?” Mr. Maker asked as he knit his brows in confusion.

“Nothing. My mind was wandering, that's all.” Mr. Cavendish glanced back at Iris, who took that moment to try and hide herself by shrinking down behind another passenger. She caught his eye again, and he smirked at her, just before he turned around to leave for their floor. She hadn't even noticed that they had arrived. Iris’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. I'm doomed, she thought.

Iris made a hasty retreat to her cubicle, and readied herself for another challenging day of order entry and fielding phone calls for GC&S. She was grateful that her workstation faced a window at least and was a fair distance away from the supervisors’ offices. She was also largely alone from her more irritating coworkers, which was a bonus.

The day passed uneventfully. One hour bled into the next, until it was time for a break. Iris carefully retrieved the tattered sketchbook from her bag and meandered to the breakroom to get free coffee and draw. There was little pleasure from working in the office itself, but Iris loved to take out her sketchbook and draw on her breaks. She happily walked to the breakroom.

The staff kitchenette was small, but comfortable, with upholstered chairs and even a modest leather couch to relax on. Seated on the couch was one of the new interns, a young woman named Evelyn Parkes.

Evelyn radiated warmth and quiet friendliness through droopy, kind eyes, which drew Iris to her at once. She squinted at each page through thick, horn-rimmed glasses, and Iris smiled at her youthful innocence and literal myopia. Evelyn was struggling to read a novel and drinking some microwaved tea out of a polystyrene cup. Hearing someone approach, Evelyn looked up to see a smiling Iris looking at the cover of her book. It was a romance novel, by the looks of it.

“Oh, hey Iris.” Evelyn offered, cheerfully. “Sit with me?”

“Sure. How are you, Evee?” Iris stowed her sketchbook and sat beside Evelyn on the couch.

“Not too bad, I guess. Been having trouble getting used to the new software they want us to use. It’s a lot different than what I learned to do in school. Plus, I had a customer yell at me today already.” Evelyn sighed into her cup, unaware that someone was approaching their couch from behind. The man started slinking silently towards Evelyn and Iris, crept up behind them and shouted.

“GAAAAAAHHH!” he bellowed into Evelyn’s ear.

Iris and Evelyn shrieked, spilling coffee and tea on the upholstery and themselves. The coffee managed to only hit Iris’s shoe, the couch arm, and floor, but the tea was all over poor Evelyn. Iris made sure that her friend was unburned, then she bolted up and wheeled around to face the office clown, a Mr. Ryan Dämmerung from the Accounts department. Her face contorted with rage at his childish behavior.

“What is WRONG with you?” Iris barked. “KNOCK IT OFF.”

“What? We're just having some fun. Just a little game, right Evee?” Ryan tried to maneuver Evelyn over to his side. Iris looked over to Evee, who was fighting back tears and averting her gaze. Her skirt was ruined, thanks to his impish pranking. Iris turned beet red with rage.

“It doesn't look like it to me. She could have been hurt! Look, you can pick on me all you want. But you leave Evelyn alone, understand?” Iris growled at Ryan, who started to crack at her ferocity. It seemed that Iris was timid and meek under normal circumstances, but incredibly fierce when it came to protecting others.

At the sound of the two ladies shrieking, Mr. Maker stopped into the breakroom. His head and torso popped in from the adjacent hallway.

“What’s going on in here?” he squinted.

Ryan threw his hands up at the worsening situation. “Jeez. You, too? Why so serious? No one can take a joke around here...” He aggressively grabbed a back of snack pretzels out of the bowl on the table and stormed out of the breakroom indignantly. Warren moved out of the way just before Ryan would have bumped into him.

“I’m not sure what his deal is, but are you two all right?” Warren asked. The ladies nodded, as he coaxed everyone back to their cubicles. “No harm done?”

“We’ll be all right. I have an extra pair of pants at my desk, Evee. Come on.” Iris touched Evelyn gently on the shoulder to comfort and guide her out of the breakroom. Warren smiled impishly at Iris as she passed him by, with an unnerving stare and calculating eyes.

Iris nodded back briefly, and escorted Evelyn to her cubicle. Evelyn graciously took the spare clothing Iris offered her and made a hasty retreat to the bathroom to change. Iris sat back in her ancient task chair at a severe angle until the seat pan squeaked. Then, her cell phone began to vibrate.