I felt a pang in my heart, and sighed as I looked around. Pastel blue walls. Beige, carpet-like floor to prevent damage from falls. Unused toys neatly piled up to one side. No sharp corners, every single one having been covered with plastic rounders.

And a crib that had never seen use.

It was a saddening sight, heart-wrenching even, but I had already grieved so much, for so long, that my tears had dried out. I was over it.

At least, that was what I told myself.

But Alice wasn't. I walked over to her, preparing to sit next to her, but she turned her head away from me, as if she didn't want me to see her face. I hadn't seen it for a long time, I realized.

"Go away," she said weakly, whispered really, her voice so scratchy and broken I barely understood her words.

I almost complied and turned to leave. But then, in a moment of stubbornness, of defiance, I sat behind her, my back touching hers, my head leaning forward.

I felt her tense up, but she didn't say anything or push me away. I didn't move for several minutes, and she eventually relaxed.

A gentle breeze came through the open window, making both the curtains and Alice's hair flutter. She didn't seem to notice it.

Her back felt so warm against mine. So gentle.

A while later, having sorted through my thoughts, I spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Alice. For everything."

Silence. I could feel her slightly shaking body.

Perhaps, if it was before, I would've just left it at that. Gone on my way thinking I'd done what I could, said all I could.

But I had changed. I'd been shaken out of my fugue. And I had realized something; I had to do something differently if I wanted my wife back. To do something again and again expecting a different result, that was called insanity.

I also had Eloquence. And I felt like it was steering me towards the right thing to say.

"And, I forgive you. I forgive you for everything."

Perhaps I was imagining things. Perhaps I was delusional; the Playboy System was probably a figment of my imagination anyways.

But I could swear I felt her body shake less.

We were silent for a while.

Then she spoke.

"Ryan... Why? Why did this have to happen to us?" Her voice was coarse, hoarse from crying, but there was no spite in her tone. No accusations. No cold, piercing indifference. Completely unlike any words she had directed at me the past few months.

That gave me the courage I needed.

Silently, I turned around and embraced her, pressing my head into the back of her neck.

It was bold. It was completely unlike me, and it would most likely backfire horribly; but I could think of nothing else that would let me connect with her quite like like that. So I wrapped my arms tighter around her.

Then I poured my heart out through my mouth.

"Life... isn't fair. It has kicked us down, torn us apart. But we still have a choice. We can choose how to deal with the grief. We can let it break us, make us hate each other for things we have no fault for, or we can overcome it together. We still have one another. You will always have me."

My voice was shaky, my hands trembling, but I felt as if a load had been lifted off my shoulders. Or as if murky, rotting water had finally flowed out of me. I had said it.

And so, I stood up, and turned around. We had been sitting there for so long, I had to get to the car as soon as possible or I'd be late.

There was something else I wanted to say, but I knew I couldn't. I lacked the courage, the drive, the conviction. I didn't have what it took to say it.

Wimp. Say it. Tell her.

I walked away, conflicted. As I stood at the doorway, I tried one last time to say it, to make those damn words exit my mouth.

I failed.

Then Eloquence pried my lips open, forced my vocal chords to vibrate, figuratively giving me two good slaps in the cheeks and telling me to man up.

I did.

"I... I love you, Alice. I still love you."

And so I left, too embarrassed to stay and hear her answer.

I didn't notice Alice turning to look at me, disregarding the chance of me seeing her face. I most definitely didn't notice how her heart began to beat faster, either. My ears were already overwhelmed by the loud beats of mine, which was thumping like a maddened drummer.

---

 

I had barely calmed my frazzled mind down slightly when I parked my electric car and entered the building I worked at.

I wasn't awed when I walked inside the large lounge, its outer wall composed almost exclusively of black metal-framed glass, the ceiling several stories high. Apart from a few dark and orange accents, giving the interior a modern style, almost every surface and piece of furniture was white, off-white, eggshell, ivory or beige—all very different colors which we were expected to be able to differentiate—from the floor to the cushioned seats to the receptionists' uniforms.

I gave the ones I knew a little wave as I passed through, flashing them my signature smile. Years of working at the same place meant we more or less all knew each other, so most of the ones who were not addressing someone smiled back, with a couple blushing abashedly. I was pretty used to such a reaction. I got it sometimes, especially over the last couple of years. I didn't think much of it, though.

It wasn't like I wanted to get with any of them, anyway.

Occasionally, drones flew this way and that, carrying small packages or documents that were too important to bear the risk of being hacked. They used the drone-ways—little red tunnels similar to ventilation pipes that ran all throughout the building—so they wouldn't have to go through normal doorways or stairways, which would not only be inconvenient for people but potentially result in an eventual accident, no matter how good the pathfinding algorithms had gotten these days.

Said drone-ways were also very popular infiltration routes for newer spy films, but in real life they were equipped with plenty of security measures to prevent just that.

Walking over to the elevators, I called one to the ground floor. I had to wait a while for it to arrive; there were way too many floors and people needing to get to said floors, especially at this time of day, for the pair of working elevators. This was because the other two had had the lack of decency to stop working at the same time; some problem with the powerlines as I'd overheard. It was surprising that nobody else was waiting with me for one, actually.

Eventually, the doors opened, and I stepped inside, immediately clicking on the button for the ninth floor. Soon, the doors began to close.

"Wait! No, don't close–"

A familiar, high-pitched voice reached my ears. It was much too loud for the generally quiet lounge, though thankfully the sound didn't travel too far within the massive room.

I was fairly certain that cry had to do to with the elevator door closing before my eyes, so I slid my shoed foot forward, smoothly stopping the doors from closing at the last second by jamming the space between them. The sensors detected said foot a moment later, and the doors reopened. I felt a pang in my leg, my overworked muscles protesting at the sudden motion, but ignored it in favor of looking at the new arrival.

My gaze slid to the panting, red-haired woman as she entered the elevator, her heels making loud clacking sounds from her hasty steps.

"What floor are you go— oh, hey, Melissa," I greeted the woman, moving my hand away from the button panel, since our destination was the same.

"Ryan! Thank you so much. Phew, I was scared I'd be late for a moment there, I overslept!" she said, as the elevator doors closed.

Late? What time is it?

Checking my watch, more of a sign of status than for actual utility at this point, I saw that it was 8:28. Close indeed.

Oh wow. I left at an okay time, though. I guess I was so out of it that I drove slower than normal... good thing I didn't have an accident.

"Yeah, we're really—careful, there—cutting it close," I answered blandly, steadying her as she stumbled slightly on her heels when the elevator suddenly began going up.

"Th–thanks, that could've been bad," she said, stuttering, perhaps due to her slightly embarrassing display, and not looking up.

"No problem. Though, you shouldn't have to endure wearing those heels in the first place. They seem like a pain... you're always wearing them, but you know you can walk on whatever the hell you want as long as it's blackish, right? The dress code isn't that strict, and we're not exactly high executives, either."

Melissa looked down as I finished talking.

"A–ah, yeah, I–I know I don't need to wear them... but I just like to make my appearance as striking and p–professional as possible, to make up for... you know. I–it also gives me confidence."

I smiled. I did know. She was a bit of a klutz, some would call her an airhead, though when she got into the flow she was pretty fantastic. I'd had to get her out of trouble a few times, but she was actually one of the most productive workers under me. Her outstanding work had even helped me in my recent performance evaluation, where I'd gotten a raise, despite having been pretty depressed and not really trying much at the time.

"Well, if it helps you, then go for it. You'll surely get used to walking in them, eventually," I encouraged her, flashing her a smile.

"Thanks... Oh yeah, I was curious, how come you're cutting it so close, Ryan? You're usually the earliest of all of us."

I looked away sheepishly, rubbing the back on my head.

"Well, some stuff happened back home, I didn't really get much sleep, and I had my head in the clouds the whole drive. I must've driven especially slowly or something, because I set off with enough time, but by the time I realized it, it was almost eight-thirty." I said, telling mostly the truth, while hiding enough for her not to worry too much.

When she heard that, Melissa looked at me, clearly concerned, and said, "Yeah... I hadn't noticed it, but you do have bags... do you want to talk about it? Is it something you can talk about?"

I chuckled at her misplaced concern. I might have needed it a while back, but right now, things seemed to be looking up.

I smiled at her, showing her I was fine. "Don't worry about me, I'm doing just fine—oh, this is us."

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out, immediately heading left and only stopping once we reached a certain door, behind which was the room we worked at. Stepping through, what greeted us was a diaphanous room with the left wall made almost fully out of glass and looking over the cityscape.

There were plenty of desks, but no cubicles to speak of; that was apparently outdated. There were several movable boards strewn about, some full of post-its or crazy diagrams, others bare. A coffee machine, currently out of use, sat in one of the far corners, on top of a small table. A projector hung from the ceiling, pointing towards a blank wall at the back, where presentations could be held, and finally, to the right was a proper office, the wall separating it from the rest of the room made completely out of a special glass, which was currently see-through from both sides, but could be turned tinted.

That was my office.

Immediately, several different voices greeted me.

"Ryan! We thought you dead, man!"

"Well, worry not, Jim. I'm alive and well."

"Boss, you're late!? Is the world gonna end!?"

"I'm not late, Phil. My watch says 8:30, so I'm on time. You should learn to be punctual like me. And don't call me boss!"

That prompted a few laughs. The barrage didn't stop, though.

"Ryan, you're finally here! Could you help me spellcheck this document? They grilled me when they read the last one I made, and I'd read it over several times!"

"Sigh... Alright. Send it to my e-mail, Amanda, I'll check it out later. And I'm still your boss, so take a page from Phil's book over here and have some respect, eh?!"

A few more laughs, and another voice.

"Ryan, I love you! Go on a date with me!"

"Today too, Jessica? You never give up, do you?"

"Never on you, hahaha!"

"Well, then I'll have to disappoint you today too. Sorry, still taken, no can do." I flashed her my ringed hand, like I did almost every day at that point.

"You'll say yes one day!"

No, I won't. I couldn't give her such a harsh answer though, even if it was Jessica we were talking about. Sometimes I wondered whether she could even feel shame.

"We'll see about that."

A bit more banter was interchanged, with people finally noticing that Melissa behind me had almost been late, too, and thus trying to tease us about arriving together—at which point, I completely shut down their argument, telling them to get on with their work—and soon enough I was alone in my office.

Turning on my computer, I looked at the figurative pile of work in front of me—most was in binary, so it didn't really take that much physical space. I sighed, which was quickly becoming a habit.

I hadn't been the most... productive, the past few days, doing the bare minimum and leaving everything for right before the headline, and now I was paying for that.

I stretched my sore, tired body, and clicked on the first document.

Oh well, no two ways about it. Time to grind.