She always double-checked the office before she went home for the night. Triple checked if she was feeling anxious. She even found herself walking out of her cubicle after checking four times on rare occasions. There were never any robbers and never a pen out of place. Tonight, however, as she stood shivering at her bus stop, she could practically feel foreign fingers clicking away at her computer. Stranger's hands, sliding up and down and all around what was rightfully hers. More importantly, she felt foreign eyes boring into her screen, scrolling through her emails, their mouse hovering over her search history. By the time the bus had arrived at her stop, she was already clacking wildly back down the street, panting to herself and thinking just one more look won't hurt, just one more look won't hurt, just one...
She busts into the lobby of her office building, paying no mind to the dozing secretary at the front desk. She didn't blame her at this hour. She was normally in the same state during the last few hours of her shift, but not when she was in charge of closing. Never when she was in charge of closing. She always saw her manager out the door before her, but now, in this flight back to her cubicle, she could imagine him slinking back to mess around on her computer, hammering away at whatever hidden gems he believed he would find. This only fueled her panic more, prodding at the elevator buttons like she was picking at scabs.
The building's damned elevator shook like a blender but brought her to a shaky stop right at her desired floor. Its doors didn't open fast enough for her, however, as she was already squeezing through its maw the second they began to part. She left her purse behind in the mad escape, ignoring the betrayed jingle of her keys as they fell limply to the ground inside. It could wait. Anything could wait before this.
She knew the maze of cubicles by heart, even in the dark. After so many late-night visits, finding her office was as simple as fishing onions out of a salad. Her heart never steadied as she drew closer to her cubicle, however. She knew no one could possibly be there, it was far too late for that. But she was there, wasn't she? How much harder would it be for someone else to sneak in with that deadbeat secretary at the front lobby?
I'm just here for a peak. She reassured herself. No one else is as nervous as you are. No one else is here. You're alone, and you're going to be back at your bus stop within ten minutes.
Her calming thoughts didn't seem to reach her feet however, as they were still fighting the ground to pick up speed. She couldn't even imagine how silly she looked right now if anyone was even there to watch. Huffing like a racehorse and sprinting as if she had just seen a ghoul. All on some silly thought that someone had broken into her office! If she hadn't been so filled with dread, she might've stopped right there and walked home without any further thought on the matter. But she was already this far. Just a few more steps. Just a few more tiny steps.
A light at the end of the hall stopped her in her manic tracks, her feet catching and her face burning as it slammed into the cheap carpet. She picked her head up as fast as she could, as if the light she had spotted would be as fleeting as a firefly, but no. It remained a stagnant ghost against the wall of her neighbor's cubicle. She recognized its harsh glare, white and burning like the sun. Her work computer. If she ceased her haggard breathing, she could even hear the light tap of movement on a keyboard. Her keyboard. She had to jab herself in the ribs to keep quiet, knowing that if she could hear them, they could certainly hear her. What if it was her boss? He had every right and authority to check the activity of his work's computers. But what if it was a robber? A criminal? She had heard stories of burglars snatching whatever technology they could in the dead of night from her senior coworkers, but she never would have imagined she'd be on the floor mere meters away from a potential one.
She straightened her back as she stood, trembling on her heels. She could leave. She could turn and run back down the cubicles just as fast as she had come, but...
The carpet was silent underfoot, only slightly catching on the velvet of her work heels. If she could just get a peek of whoever was in her cubicle, she could go home satisfied. Just the quickest glance at the screen would tell her just what she needed to know about their intentions. No noise, no confrontation, no hassle. Even if the mission was easy in her head, she still couldn't explain the uncontrollable anxiety that rattled her crossed arms and lodged in her throat. What if it was really a robber? Was she stepping into her last moments? Would she get herself killed defending her mediocre workplace? None of her thoughts deterred her from stepping into the entrance of her cubicle and getting washed out by the sunbeams of her work screen.
Right there, crouched in her tattered roller chair, was a hooded man. His lithe fingers flew wildly over the keyboard, only occasionally stopping to guide the mouse another direction. All of her belongings, family pictures, and various items she kept in her cubicle remained untouched and disregarded. His attention belonged solely to the screen, which whirled past in a storm of black and white. He seemed so engrossed in his supposed work that he seemingly didn't even notice her standing right behind him. Even standing so close, he was a silhouette against an artificial sun. If she reached out, she didn't doubt that her hand would pass through his dark form like a shadow. She couldn't seem to move at all, however. Confusion, shock, and curiosity rooted her into place, staring stupidly at the man swan diving into the intricacies of her computer.
She tore her eyes from the man and finally looked at the screen. She saw a column of dates fly by, all from the past week. Reluctantly, her eyes drifted to the keywords that sat next to these times. They bulged in their sockets as she realized what he was reading. Amateur, solo, raw. The stranger was patrolling her search history. The rush of links stopped before he settled the mouse on a particular link with a keyword that hit her like the light of day. Masked.
"Stop!" She rushed forward and slammed her hand over his, probably breaking the mouse with her force. "What are you doing? Why are you- who are-?"
"Miss, there's a reason it's called not safe for work." The man's voice was muffled, a trait that shocked her so badly that she took a few steps backward. He swiveled in the chair, the face in the hollow of his hood fully exposed. Except, she realized after a moment, it wasn't.
He wore a mask. A cover so cartoonishly contorted that she felt a lump of dread in her throat begin to form. His grin was freakish, his cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were horribly, horribly empty. He lounged on the chair like a throne, his gloved thumb stroking the mask's goatee with thought as he watched her tremble.
"What are you doing here." She demanded. "This office is closed. I will call the police if you don't explain yourself."
"I may." He nodded. "If you explain why I found porn where I was looking for evidence of money laundering."
"I- you-" She stammered, noticing the video lagging behind him. "What do you mean money laundering?"
"It's a steady business at this establishment. How else could such a... bedraggled building stay afloat?" He asked. She pressed her lips together and opened her mouth to retort, but he had already moved on. "While the emails were easily accessible, I couldn't help but stray a little when I noticed an email from a particular subscription service. Do you really pay for pornography?"
"It's none of your business." She snapped, face reddening. "Actually, nothing about this is your business. I will be letting the police know about this."
"And what taste you have." He went on, seemingly ignoring her. "Based on your picture, I would have never guessed a woman of your standing to be so
lewd."
"This is ridiculous." She grumbled, reaching to her purse for her phone, but froze when she realized it wasn't there. Shit. The elevator.
"And so many hours watched." He continued, scrolling through her history again. She wanted to run, to shrivel up, to yell at him, anything but watch any more of this. But she couldn't move. Not in his presence. Everything about him demanded that she stay. "If I didn't know better, I would've thought that you barely get any action yourself."
"You're awful..." She covered her burning face with her hands, the only thing she could do to get him out of her sight. There was the creak of a chair and the soft approach of steps before her left hand was gently peeled away from her face. The masked man's caricature of a head was only centimeters away now, himself bending to be eye level with her.
"Don't entertain yourself with such fallacies." She could practically feel his smile under the mask when he said, "Would you like to know what the real thing feels like?"
