I remember thinking, as I put the phone down, that I really, really hoped that Janey wouldn’t bring in one of her homemade cakes
to mark my return, as she often did when people had been off.
Dry doesn’t even come close to describing the arid desert texture of her coffee-and-walnut sponge cake.
When I arrived at work, the exterior of the office was as unenticing as ever, and I hesitated outside.
I had been absent for almost two months, and heaven alone knew what sort of unsubstantiated rumors had abounded as to the reasons behind it.
I had not given—had not been capable of giving—a thought during that time to my spreadsheets, to accounts receivable, purchase orders and VAT.
Could I still do my job? I wasn’t confident that I could remember anything.
My password? Of course. Three words, Ignis aurum probat. “Fire tests gold.” The rest of the phrase: “... and adversity tests the brave.”
How true. A strong password, strong indeed, exactly as required by the computer system. Thank you, Seneca.
Ah, but I felt the beginnings of a fluttery panic in my chest. I couldn’t do it. Could I?
I wasn’t ready to face it. I would go home and telephone Bob, let him know that I would be taking another week’s leave. He’d understand.
There was a shuffling sound behind me on the path, and I quickly wiped away the tears
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