The Layoff Pool

The betting pool was pinned to the breakroom bulletin board, its margins thick with names and dollar amounts. Everyone at the firm knew the drill: guess which departments would face the axe this quarter, win the pot.

Marcus stared at his own name on the list—twenty bucks on Human Resources—and felt hollow. His best friend Elena had added it for him, a joke between them, or so he'd thought. Now she stood by the coffee machine, her palm pressed against her forehead, migraine or something darker.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked at him with eyes that had seen too many corporate funerals. "My dog died yesterday."

"Shit, Elena. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. He was old. It's just—" She stopped herself, as if the words had nearly betrayed her.

Marcus knew what she hadn't said. The dog had been the last tether to her marriage, which had ended three months ago in a quiet apartment and a stack of boxes. They'd gotten drunk on her balcony two weeks after, her head on his shoulder, his hand无意 brushing hers. Nothing had happened. Nothing was supposed to happen.

"The pool," he said, changing the subject. "You think HR's really going?"

Elena's smile was razor-thin. "I put fifty on Operations. My source says it's already decided."

Marcus felt something cold in his stomach. Operations was his department.

"Your source?"

"Can't say. Client confidentiality." She tapped her temple. "Palm reader told me."

"Funny."

"I'm hilarious." She pushed off the counter. "You should collect your winnings, Marcus. Before they lock the doors."

The email came at 4:47 PM. Operations dissolved effective immediately. Marcus packed his box while his coworkers avoided his eyes, their earlier laughter now absent from the air. He found Elena waiting by the elevators, her own box in hand.

"You knew," he said.

"I put fifty on Operations, Marcus. That's all I did."

"You're my friend."

"I'm your friend who's thirty-eight years old and tired of pretending this place gives a damn about either of us." She stepped into the elevator. "Are you coming or not?"

The betting pool remained on the bulletin board, Marcus's name still beside Human Resources, wrong about everything except one thing: something had to end. He stepped forward. The doors closed behind them.