The Art of Corporate Espionage

The orange light of sunset hit your glass just so, illuminating the pulp settling at the bottom of your juice. You were always particular about your orange juice — freshly squeezed, nothing from concentrate, exactly the kind of detail that made me fall in love with you three years ago at that corporate retreat.

'I'm sorry,' you said again, not meeting my eyes. 'It was just business.'

Business. The word tasted like spinach stuck in my teeth — something green and bitter that I couldn't quite dislodge. I'd spent months cooking elaborate dinners for you, learning to make creamed spinach the way your mother used to, all while you were downloading proprietary formulas from the company server onto an encrypted drive.

You were a spy. Not the glamorous kind — no martinis, no exotic locales, no tailored suits. Just a mid-level accountant at our competitor's firm, recruited to steal our new pharmaceutical formula. I'd invited you into my bed, into my home, into the most guarded parts of myself.

'Do you remember our first date?' I asked. 'That baseball game?'

You nodded reluctantly.

'You told me you loved baseball because anything could happen in the ninth inning. The underdog could still win.' I took a sip of my wine. 'I should have known then. You were always watching, always calculating angles.'

The water in the vase on the table had gone cloudy. The roses you'd brought yesterday were already drooping, petals curling inward like secrets refusing to be told.

'I'm going to miss you,' you said, finally looking at me. Your eyes were that same soft brown that had made my chest ache the first time we kissed.

'No,' I said. 'You're going to miss having someone who trusted you completely. There's a difference.'

You stood up, your chair scraping against the hardwood. The key you returned lay on the table between us — small, silver, meaningless now. I watched you walk away through the front door, disappearing into the evening like water down a drain, and I wondered who I was without the lie I'd been living.