The Weight of Wet Wool

Marcus stood in the rain outside the office building, his fedora already soaked through. He'd worn the hat to Ella's funeral—she'd always said it made him look like a detective from a film noir—but he hadn't taken it off since. That was three weeks ago.

Inside, the corporate kitchen buzzed with lunchtime chatter. Marcus filled a glass with water from the cooler, watching the bubbles rise. He'd stopped eating solid food after Ella died. Just liquids and the occasional handful of raw spinach from the grocery store, chewed slowly while standing over the sink, remembering how she used to make him laugh with those Popeye impressions when he complained about eating healthy.

"You coming to the meeting?" Cheryl from accounting asked, her voice too bright. "They're announcing the restructuring."

Marcus nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

The conference room smelled of stale coffee and desperation. The CEO, a man Marcus had once admired, paced at the front of the room, spouting buzzwords about synergy and paradigm shifts. Pure bull, Ella would have called it. She'd always seen through corporate double-speak, had been planning to blow the whistle on the accounting irregularities before the accident.

The rain intensified, drumming against the glass walls. Marcus watched a droplet trace a path down the window, gathering others as it fell, growing heavier. That's how grief worked, he realized. It accumulated.

He excused himself halfway through the presentation. In the restroom, he splashed cold water on his face and caught his reflection in the mirror. The hat had left a crease in his hair, a permanent indentation like a scar.

Marcus took off the hat and set it on the counter. For the first time in three weeks, he saw himself clearly.

He returned to the meeting, hatless, and raised his hand when the CEO asked for questions.

"Yes?" the CEO said, impatient.

"The third-quarter earnings," Marcus said, his voice steady. "They don't match the invoices I reviewed yesterday."

Silence fell like heavy rain.

Marcus took a drink of water. He could almost hear Ella's laughter in the distance. The bull stops here, he thought, and finally, for the first time since she'd been gone, he allowed himself to smile.