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“Well hell...”
“What about someone transient? The water delivery man? Or the IT company?”
“IT company is a good idea. Bet they’re listed in these files.”
So we pulled every sheet of paper out until we found something that could lead us to the culprit. “Says ‘Damian.’ No last name.” I sighed. “How are we to exact vengeance on his family line for a thousand generations if we don't know who his family is?”
“You want to exact generational vengeance with me, soul piercer?”
I shrugged. “I would...”
“You really know how to treat a girl.”
“Don’t get too used to it, Sweets.” But also...you would look damn good in my coffin. But no. No. It’s not real. We can never become real. Because love...isn’t real. “Let me ask Sharon. She knows everyone. Obviously we missed someone.”
I knew if I waited in the elevator, Felicity would show. And she did, wheeling a basket filled with plastic bags of orange slices.
I stared at them for some time before I decided it wasn’t worth it to ask questions about the contents of the bags. “Do you know a Damian?”
“Hm?”
“A Damian. Is there a Damian who works here? Perhaps in IT?”
“Oh no. I’ve never worked with a Damian.” She smiled at me, her plump cheeks high. “Apple slice?”
“...apple?”
“Oh. Oranges, bananas. Whatever they are. Want one?”
What on this plague-filled earth? Does she not even know what she’s hauling about? “I don’t eat. I have told you this more times than is possible.”
“Oh. Well...how is it going with that girl? I haven’t seen you at your desk all dayyy...”
“It’s fine. She’s looking for a Damian.”
“Oh? You’re helping her with her audit? How romantic!”
“It’s not romantic—”
“What are you getting her, then?”
“I’m not—”
“She’ll expect it. For Valentine’s Day.”
“I don’t—”
“Meet me in the upstairs utility closet, honey, if you want to know more about Damian. I can’t resist a good love story.”
And then the door dinged open and Felicity bopped out, humming the theme song to some sappy American television show.
So I circled back to the file room to meet Kat and to let her know that perhaps Felicity had lost her mind, but that we were to meet her upstairs. But when I opened the door, I found the thief completely unclothed, sitting cross-legged on the floor atop our piles of papers and manila folders.
“What. Is happening?”
“Hm?” She had another lollipop, this one lime green, and she spoke around it as she typed. “Oh, I figured I’d take another job real quick while you harassed that old woman in the elevator.”
“Alright.”
