The Oracle of Breakroom B

The sphinx of breakroom B sat on the counter — a ceramic mug, chipped at the rim, with an enigmatic smile printed on the side. Elena had spent three years solving its riddles.

'Why do you stay?' Marcus asked, swirling his coffee. He'd been her friend since the mergers and acquisitions bloodbath of '21, the one who'd helped her pack when layoffs swept through like a plague.

She didn't answer immediately. Outside, the orange glow of sunset bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. 'There's something about this place. The water cooler conversations. The way people pretend their spreadsheets matter.'

Marcus laughed, sharp and bitter. 'You're chasing ghosts, El. That consulting dog left three months ago.'

'The dog wasn't the point.' She traced the rim of the sphinx mug. 'It was the principle. They let him bring it in during the pandemic. Remote work, remember? We were all isolated, and that dog — ridiculous as he was — made us feel human.'

She didn't mention that the golden retriever had died. Some things didn't need saying between friends.

'My therapist says I'm looking for meaning in paper cuts,' Elena continued. 'But I keep coming back. Every morning I make coffee in this mug, and every morning I wonder: what's the riddle?'

Marcus set his cup down. 'The riddle isn't the work. It's why we build monuments to temporary things.' He gestured at the mug, at the empty office stretching behind them. 'This was your anchor. The dog, the coffee, the stupid mug — they made you stay when you could have left.'

Elena watched the last light fade. Water pipes hummed in the walls, the building's heartbeat.

'So what's the answer?' she asked. 'To the riddle?'

Marcus picked up his briefcase. 'There isn't one. That's the joke.' He paused at the door. 'But if you keep showing up tomorrow, I will too.'

The sphinx smiled on, its ceramic eyes holding secrets it would never tell. Elena washed both mugs, wondering if the riddle was simply the asking itself.