The Goldfish in the Glass

Marla stared at the goldfish bowl on her desk, the orange fish swimming in endless circles, unaware it was trapped in glass just like she was trapped in this cubicle. Three years at Mercer Tech, and she'd been swimming just as blindly.

"Hey, friend."

The voice made her jump. Tom leaned against her cubicle wall, his smile too wide, his eyes too calculating. He'd been her ally since her first week, the one who showed her which coffee maker actually worked, which managers to avoid.

"Tom." She tried to match his warmth, but something felt off.

He held up a coaxial cable he'd brought from somewhere. "IT needs this back from your desk setup."

She frowned. "I didn't borrow any cable."

"They have you down for the server room audit." He shrugged. "Paperwork mix-up maybe."

The audit. The thing she'd mentioned to him yesterday—how she'd discovered discrepancies in the quarterly reports. How someone was siphoning funds into offshore accounts. How she was planning to report it.

Tom knew. Tom, who'd been her friend.

Marla's gaze drifted to the window, to the palm tree swaying in the parking lot breeze, twenty floors down. Freedom looked like leaves in the wind.

"I noticed something," she said slowly. "The discrepancies. They all trace back to approvals from your department."

Tom's smile didn't waver. "You're sharp, Marla. That's why we hired you."

"We?"

"Corporate security." His face shifted, the warmth evaporating. "We've had a spy in the building for months. Someone passing financial data to competitors."

Her stomach dropped. "You think it's me."

"I know it's not you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's me."

The goldfish swam on, oblivious to the way her world was tilting sideways.

"I needed someone I could trust to help me get the evidence out safely," Tom continued. "You're the only one who doesn't have a motive."

Marla looked at her palm, at the way her hand trembled against the desk. "What do you need?"

"Meet me tonight. The palm reader booth at the carnival. Come alone."

The goldfish jumped in its bowl, a sudden splash of water hitting her desk. Both of them turned to look, and when they turned back, Tom was already walking away, the cable coil in his hand like a noose.

Marla realized then that in this corporate tank, everyone was swimming in circles. The only question was who would swallow whom first.