Maybe She Never Existed
Tara and I worked in the same office. Different departments. Same floor. We mostly met near the coffee machine or during lunch breaks when both of us wanted to avoid people. She worked in Marketing. I worked in Operations. This meant she attended meetings with expressions. I attended meetings with spreadsheets. For nearly two years, our friendship survived entirely on coffee, sarcasm, and office gossip. Then one Tuesday morning, I showed her an email. “Read this,” I said. She took my phone casually. Then stopped stirring her coffee. The mail was short. From: unknown.sender19@protonmail.com To: varun.p@brightline.com If you talk to other women here, I will kill you. Tara looked at me. Then at the screen again. “Well,” she said softly, “that feels slightly unhealthy.” “I received it ten minutes ago.” “On your office mail?” “Yes.” She sat down slowly. The cafeteria around us remained perfectly ordinary. Coffee machines hissed. Somebody laughed too loudly near the billing counter. Tw...