And everything has lost its colour. All sounds become noise, muffled and inconsequential. For what should anything matter when a man has lost his purpose? Indeed, there is less reason to go in now. Even at the lobby, when I stand alone, I imagine that she is still there, watching the numbers at the top dial up one by one. And I’d be watching them with her in silence.
No one knows why she left. They all said they came in one day and she was gone. In the days before, no one noticed any about her. One of them said she was her usual cold self, but apart from that, nothing peculiar. I was hoping in the initial days that it was all a joke, for how could she leave without a word; not after what had happened. Her seat cushion was still there, white with black polka-dots. And I thought maybe she had sent her computer for repairs and cleared up her desk while she was at it. But a number of days past, and still she did no return. Until finally, I asked one of those people sitting close to her and learnt the terrible truth. I suppose I knew it all along; from that day I saw her sitting and talking seriously with the head of services in a quiet corner.
In the office, everyone seems to have passed over it quite easily. It is as if her disappearance had meant everything to me and nothing to everyone else. Or perhaps it is as if I had learnt of the truth a little too late, so that when I emerged from my ignorant slumber, everyone had already gotten used to the truth; while to me, it was as fresh and painful as a wound.