The Last Shift

The bullpen was empty except for Mara and the humming of servers she'd grown to hate over three years of midnight shifts. Three AM was the hour when the office building felt like a tomb, fluorescent lights flickering like dying stars overhead.

"You look like a zombie," Victor said, sliding a coffee cup across her desk. His tie was loosened, dark circles painted beneath eyes that had seen too many spreadsheet cells and not enough horizons.

"Feel like one too." Mara accepted the coffee—black, bitter, exactly how she took it now. "Did you hear about Thompson? They're calling his position 'redundant.' After seventeen years."

"That's corporate bull and we both know it." Victor leaned against her cubicle wall, smelling of stale coffee and something like resignation. "They're clearing house before the merger. We're all just waiting for the axe."

Mara's phone buzzed. Her ex-husband again, probably drunk, probably wanting to come back. She'd stopped reading the messages weeks ago, stopped feeling anything but a dull ache where her future used to be. The coaxial cable dangling from her workspace reminded her of the lifelines they'd all convinced themselves were connected to something meaningful.

"What would you do?" she asked quietly. "If you walked out right now?"

Victor's expression shifted—something vulnerable breaking through his carefully maintained corporate armor. "I've got a sister in Portland. She runs a bookstore. Says she needs help." He laughed softly. "Can't imagine me with books, can you?"

"I can imagine you somewhere that's not this."

The words hung between them, dangerous and hopeful. Victor straightened, something unreadable in his eyes. "I've been meaning to tell you—the cable guy came by yesterday while you were on lunch. Fixed the connection in the break room."

"Thanks."

"But that's not..." He swallowed. "What I meant was, I'm putting in my resignation tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. To Portland."

The fluorescent light flickered violently, then stabilized. In that moment, Mara realized she'd been sleepwalking through her life for years, and that sometimes the zombies weren't the ones who'd died, but the ones who forgot they were still alive.

She took a breath and felt something real in her chest for the first time in years. "I'd need to pack."

Victor smiled—genuinely, this time. "We've got time. The night's still young."