The Lightning Collection

Margaret stood by the edge of the apartment complex's swimming pool, her fourth gin and tonic sweating against her palm. The office holiday party raged inside, but she needed air. Needed distance from Gary's voice, that particular brand of corporate enthusiasm that made her teeth ache.

A flash of lightning split the sky — sudden, violent, illuminating the pool's dark water in strobe-light bursts. She counted silently. One, two, three. Thunder rattled the windows above.

"You look like you're plotting murder," said a voice behind her.

She turned to find David, the senior analyst who'd been mysteriously absent since the merger announcement. His tie was loosened, his eyes tired.

"Not murder," she said. "Just thinking about the bull market we're supposedly riding. Gary's presentation today — did you catch it?"

David laughed, bitter and short. "The charts. The projections. All that bull about three-year growth while they're quietly liquidating half the department."

"Exactly." Margaret swirled her drink. "And the office pool — how much are we in for now? $800 total betting on who survives the cuts?"

"$1,200," David corrected. "I put in $50 on myself getting canned next week."

Another lightning strike, closer this time. The pool's surface rippled in the wind.

"You know what's funny?" David said, moving closer. "All those spreadsheets, the projections, the Gary-led cheerleading sessions — and then one lightning storm, and you realize how thin it all is. How fast it could all change."

Margaret looked at him — really looked — and wondered what she'd been missing all those months in adjacent cubicles. The storm inside matched something in his eyes.

"The company's not going to exist in six months," she said quietly.

"No," he agreed. "But we might."

He set his drink on the pavement. Took her hand. The thunder was directly overhead now.

"To hell with the pool," he said. "To hell with Gary's bull. Come home with me?"

Margaret finished her drink in one swallow. The lightning flashed again, and for the first time in years, she wasn't thinking about projections. She was thinking about beginning.