The Orange Peel

Margot stood before the glass wall of her corner office, watching the smog-choked sunset bleed into the skyline. Below, the city sprawled like an open wound, orange light pooling in the gutters. Tomorrow, they'd announce the restructuring. Tomorrow, half these people would learn that their loyalty was worth precisely nothing.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Margot turned. David leaned against her doorframe, holding two mugs of coffee. Her former friend. Her former protégé. The one she'd mentored for seven years, before he'd started undercutting her in meetings.

"Just thinking," she said, accepting the coffee. It was cold.

"About the layoffs?" David stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked shut. "Word is, you're on the list."

Margot's stomach tightened. "And you're not."

"I made myself indispensable." David's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Unlike some people who thought playing by the rules mattered."

"I taught you those rules."

"You taught me to survive." He set something on her desk—a small orange, its skin dimpled and perfect. "Peace offering."

Margot stared at it. Seven years ago, when she'd found him crying in the office pantry after his divorce, she'd handed him an orange. Said something about how the worst days always end. Said they'd get through it together.

She picked it up now, her thumbnail sinking into the peel. Citrus sharpness filled the air, clean and honest in a room that suddenly felt suffused with lies.

"You know what they say about oranges," she said quietly. "They rot from the inside out. By the time you can see it, it's already too late."

David's smile faltered.

Margot walked to the window. Outside, the last of the orange light faded, surrendering to the hungry dark. Somewhere down there, a stray cat yowled, fighting for scraps in the alley.

"I didn't just teach you to survive, David," she said, still facing the glass. "I taught you to do it with dignity. Somewhere along the way, you forgot the difference."

Behind her, silence. Then the door opened and closed again.

Margot peeled the orange slowly, section by section, watching the city lights flicker on like stars fallen to earth. She ate the fruit standing there, juice running down her fingers, sticky and bright and real. Tomorrow she'd lose her job. Tonight, she'd keep her soul.