Corporate Artifacts

Marcus had become a zombie somewhere between the third floor cafeteria and his corner office. Not the walking dead kind—those were romantic, really—but the corporate variety: eyes glazed from fluorescent lights, skin pale from twelve-hour shifts, soul hollowed out by quarterly projections. He was forty-three and felt ancient.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He worked in corporate espionage—a fancy word for spy—and spent his days stealing secrets from competitors. Vitamin supplements lined his desk drawer: B12 for energy, D3 for mood, magnesium for sleep. Little capsules of hope that never quite delivered.

'You look like hell,' Sarah said, leaning against his doorframe. She was the new analyst, thirty-two and sharp in ways that made his chest ache. 'Rough night?'

Marcus rubbed his temples. 'Just the usual. Trying to figure out how PharmaCorp's developing that new drug delivery system.' He paused. 'My dog died this morning.'

Her expression softened. 'Marcus, I'm so sorry. What happened?'

'Old age. She was fifteen.' He swallowed hard. 'Buster found her under the deck when he got home from school.' Buster was his son, away at college now. Marcus had barely seen him graduate.

Sarah moved closer, her perfume cutting through the stale office air. 'You should go home.'

'Can't. Deadline.' But his voice cracked, betraying him.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. Warm, solid, real. 'This job will eat you alive if you let it. My cat has more self-preservation instinct than you do.'

Marcus almost laughed. Instead, he found himself telling her everything—about the divorce, the missed graduations, the way he'd stopped recognizing himself in mirrors. She listened without judgment, her thumb tracing small circles on his shoulder.

'Maybe,' she said quietly, 'it's time to stop being a corporate zombie and start living again.'

Outside, rain began to fall against the glass. For the first time in years, Marcus thought about going home before midnight. Somewhere in his pocket, his phone buzzed with a new assignment. He let it ring.