What the Thunder Said

The layoff list had seventy-three names. Marcus had told himself it was just business, but standing in the rain watching a fifteen-hundred-pound bull snort steam onto his windshield, business felt very far away.

He'd driven to Miller's Cable after the merger announcement, wanting to deliver the news personally to Elena—the friend who'd recruited him straight out of MBA school, who'd covered for him when his mother died, who'd poured wine and asked about his daughter when his own marriage was ending. Some gratitude.

The parking lot was empty except for his Tesla and the bull, which had apparently escaped from the farm next door. It lowered its head and scraped at the pavement.

Marcus's phone buzzed. Elena: 'You coming in? Weather's getting bad.'

Lightning cracked the sky open, purple veins threading through charcoal clouds. The bull didn't flinch.

He'd rehearsed the speech. 'Tough market.' 'Transitioning.' 'Severance package.' But the truth was simpler: the new owners wanted profit margins he couldn't deliver, and Elena's division—specialized industrial cable—was too expensive to keep. It was bullshit, and she'd know it was bullshit. She'd taught him that sometimes being a friend meant telling hard truths. He was about to destroy her life while calling it a business decision.

The bull charged.

Marcus threw the car into reverse, tires spinning in the wet asphalt. The bull struck the rear bumper with a sickening crunch. His phone slid off the seat—Elena still on the line.

'You okay?' he heard through the speaker. 'Marcus, that sounded bad.'

He stared at his reflection in the rearview. What was he doing? This woman had covered for him at his mother's funeral, had sat with him in hospital waiting rooms when his daughter had pneumonia, had been the only person who called just to check on his mental health when the divorce papers came through. And now he was remotely eliminating her livelihood because some spreadsheet said so.

The bull backed up, shook its massive head.

'I can't do it,' he said.

'What?'

'The list. The layoffs. I can't do it to you.'

Silence except for rain against the roof. Then Elena's laugh, tired but real. 'You're an idiot. I already know. I was going to tell you—I'm taking the buyout. Starting my own consultancy. This place has been dead for years.'

The bull wandered off toward the road, bored with them both.

'You knew?' Marcus asked.

'Marcus, I trained you. You think I can't read the writing on the wall? Just—I don't know. Maybe come inside before you get struck by lightning. We'll figure out the rest together.'

He killed the engine. The rain came down harder, washing away what remained of the person he'd been ten minutes ago.