Vitamin Deficit

The corporate pyramid rose forty stories above Chicago, glass and steel reflecting a sky the color of old television static. Elena swam through the fluorescent corridors at 7:43 each morning, her movements practiced, invisible—a sort of professional swimming that left no ripples.

She'd started taking vitamin B complex three months ago, after the panic attacks began. Small yellow pills that promised energy she couldn't feel. The irony wasn't lost on her: the job was draining the life from her, and she was supplementing the deficit with gelatin capsules.

Her cat, Morpheus, waited on the windowsill. He knew things. Animals sense when their humans are unraveling.

"You're being watched," Sarah from accounting had whispered at the holiday party, too loud, gin-breath and desperation. "The audit team? They're not auditors."

Elena had laughed, the kind of laugh that tastes like metal. "Of course they're auditors, Sarah."

But then she noticed things. The way the new guy, Marcus from Risk Management, always seemed to be near the break room when she discussed the Q3 reports with the team. The way his computer screen tilted slightly toward hers, just enough. The way he asked about her weekend, about her routine, about the cat.

A spy. In the pyramid. Not even a good one.

Last Tuesday, swimming laps at the community center at midnight—her only real sleep these days—she'd realized something profound. The water didn't judge her complicity. She'd been signing off on the discrepancies for six months. The numbers didn't work, and she knew it, and she kept signing because the mortgage was due and Morpheus needed premium kibble and vitamins weren't cheap.

Tonight, Marcus from Risk Management stood by her desk as she packed up. 7:43.

"Elena," he said. "We should talk about Q3."

She looked at him—really looked—at the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly. Not a spy, she realized. Another swimmer in the same polluted water.

"Tomorrow," she said. "We'll talk tomorrow."

She fed Morpheus. She took her vitamins. She lay awake until dawn, wondering if she was the predator or the prey, or if it mattered anymore.