The Vitamin Season

She first appeared in the breakroom like a fox slipping through a fence—red hair sharp against the fluorescent gray, eyes measuring exits. Elena. Forty-two, divorced, carrying herself like someone who'd stopped waiting for permission years ago.

I was measuring my morning dosage of corporate survival: one Vitamin D supplement for the seasonal affective disorder nobody admitted to, two Advil for the tension headache that arrived with my email notifications. Elena watched me swallow the pill.

"Those things are bullshit," she said. "My ex swore by them. Still died of a heart attack at forty-five."

"Worth a shot," I said. The air between us already felt charged, dangerous in that way office romances start—with inappropriate candor in rooms designated for grief sandwiches and stale coffee.

Our boss, Richardson—the bull who'd trampled his way to VP by sheer stubborn inertia—had called yet another all-hands meeting to discuss synergy. The baseball metaphors started immediately. "We need to knock it out of the park," he bellowed, palm slapping the conference table. "Step up to the plate. This inning's ours to lose."

Elena caught my eye from across the room. Something passed between us—recognition of shared absurdity, the adult version of passing notes in detention. That night, we ended up at the dive bar down the street, drinking whiskey like we'd earned it.

"You know what's funny?" Elena said, cigarette ember glowing in the dark. "My dad coached baseball. College team. Used to say the same bullshit Richardson does. Thought if he yelled loud enough, we'd win. We lost every game that season."

"Maybe that's the point," I said. "The losing. Maybe the game's just distraction so nobody notices the stadium's empty."

She laughed—a real sound, startling in its authenticity. We kissed in the parking lot like teenagers, mouths tasting like whiskey and compromise. Behind us, the office building rose dark as a monolith, Richardson's baseball metaphors echoing somewhere in the ventilation.

The next morning, I threw the vitamins in the trash. Some things you just have to learn to live without.