The Palm Reader's Thursday

The cat arrived like clockwork every Thursday at 3 PM, a calico named Mrs. Dalloway who belonged to the accounting firm next door. Elena watched from her desk as the cat padded across the warm pavement, paused to consider the reflection pool in the building's atrium, then leaped gracefully onto the concrete ledge outside her floor-to-ceiling window.

"You're back," Elena murmured, pressing her palm against the glass. The cat stared back, unimpressed, then settled into a patch of sunlight for her daily surveillance.

Elena's phone buzzed — her mother again, wanting to discuss the benefit. She silenced it, like she had the last twelve calls. Some conversations were better left unspoken, especially the ones about money and absence and the five years of silence between them.

Her boss, Richard, appeared at her doorway, wearing his usual Panama hat even indoors. "Corporate wants the presentation by five, Elena. Don't make me regret hiring you over that internal candidate."

She nodded, throat tight. She'd been sleeping with Richard's son for three months. The son, who worked in IT, had told her his father was threatening to fire someone today as a show of power during the merger talks. Show of power. The phrase sat heavy in her stomach like cold coffee.

The cat suddenly sat up, ears alert. A squirrel? No — she was watching the pool on the ground floor, where a man had stumbled and fallen in. Elena recognized him: the new VP from the acquiring company, already drunk at 2 PM on a Tuesday. He flailed in the shallow water, his expensive suit ruined, while people gathered around with phones recording.

"Leave him," Richard said, appearing beside her, adjusting his hat. "Let's see if he can swim."

Elena pressed her palm flat against the glass until her skin turned white. The cat sat motionless, a witness. Below, the man stopped struggling. Just floated there, face up to the skylight, accepting whatever came next.

"I'll have that presentation by five," Elena said, turning away from the window. Outside, the cat finally closed her eyes, entirely unimpressed by the spectacle of human failure.