Tap Tap

As soon as the office is empty, I feel my eyes tear up. There’s nothing I can do to stop this, I don’t even try. I tap-tap at the keyboard, and a big drop falls from the outer corner of my right eye, halting for a moment at the top of the cheek. I’ll wipe it later. I’m typing nonsense of course;, it doesn’t matter. No-one can see my screen, even when they’re all in here. Nothing matters any more. Only, only Maud.

I blink hard, to clear my vision a little. I sniff, and look around for the tissue box. It sits in sunlight, like a spotlight, I pull off a little piece at first – it tears easily. When I take a better grip, and pull out the whole yellow tissue, it’s warm. It’s clean and cheerful-looking, and I want to throw it down and stamp all over it. I almost do that. The fluorescent lights are on, because the sunlight is unpredictable. One, inevitably, is flickering over Lina’s desk. I wonder how long it’s been doing that – did it just start, or have I just been too miserable and cut off to notice it? Staring fixedly at a lever arch file labelled “Users Added”, I blow my nose and throw the tissue over to the bin. It misses, and in dismay I feel another upwelling of tears. There’s a worse upwelling too – inside. I turn and push myself towards to bin, the little wheels on my chair, leaving rubber marks on the lino floor. Like everything today, it’s an effort. The tissue is damp when I pick it up, and I still almost miss the bin again.

I hear the door open – there’s a creak and a soft thud as it swings back against a shoe, used as a temporary doorstop. It must be Gill, she opens it like that. I straighten up, and tap-tap I go at the keyboard.
“Just walk past me”, I think. “I’m busy”, I think.
I can’t see the screen myself now. Tap-tap.
“Don’t think about Maud – only don’t think about Maud, and you can get through the day.”
But of course, that <i>is</i> thinking about her.