I can't sleep. Again. My old friend Claus reminds me in the middle of the night that he came to stay. I feel even Ben sleeping by my side too close.

I have plenty of time to think. It's strange. I don't even know if I still have a job or not, but I don't care much either. Uncertainty has a liberating effect on me.

I feel like floating. It's a familiar feeling. Since the war, I've let go of the false belief, regarding the possibility of knowing what tomorrow brings. Now I have no idea.

In the morning, I try to find a good enough reason to get up. Five minutes before the alarm starts to beep, I still haven't found it. I lie on my bed, and I play dead. Because, honestly, what makes a person alive?

Breathing. Something I have problems with lately. Eating. Something I'm not that good at either. I lost quite a few pounds. Moving. What if I decide not to move at all? I stay in bed, and that's all. I'm unmoving and immovable. Therefore, an object.

It reminds me of another immovable object. It's just a picture, out of the blue, of me, and my huge wardrobe, standing in front of our house, thinking that it's impossible to move it. But it wasn't. It turned out to be possible.

The memory makes me smile. Back then, when I thought that Mr. Warren was Bill's bodyguard. And he unpacked all my boxes. He couldn't stand there and not help.

I turn the alarm off one minute before it's time. I wake up Ben with caresses and kisses instead. Then I see him to school. We take our time to get there. He reminds me that I'll be late for work, and I lie to him that I have a trial at nine, so I'll start my day at the court.

I've got nothing to do. And nowhere to go. Honestly, I don't know what to spend my day with. I highly doubt anyone in the office wants to see me ever again.

Just when I decide to go home and lie back to sleep, my phone beeps. It's Ollie.

... w the fuck are you ...

I don't really understand what's going on. Other than she was too busy to spell "where", while she apparently had enough time to spell "fuck" flawlessly.

... was so mad at you but now m worried ...

I sigh. If I were her, I'd probably delete my number instead of being worried.

... on my way ..., I write to her. After I send it, I have little choice. Suddenly, I have a place to go. And, on the negative side, people to face.

But if I worry about them staring daggers at me, I'm wrong. In the office, everything seems to be back to normal. It's a busy, but ordinary day at work, like before I've shown up and messed up their lives.

No one's paying much attention to me; they are simply doing their jobs. Thelma is writing something. Bill is sitting by Andy's side, and they are trying to put a complicated application together. Ollie is sending out mail. Liam's concentrating with his tongue stuck out.

Mr. Warren is having a meeting. Probably the one he postponed a few days ago. He doesn't have a reason to deviate from his usual business plan anymore, so he's catching up with his duties.

He's having an argument in there, with one of the men with the boring colored ties. They seem vaguely familiar. I'm quite sure I should know them by name, but I don't.

When they're leaving, Mr. Warren sees them to the exit. They are loud and confident. Just like the way professionals with boring colored ties should be. They exchange a few clever remarks regarding business, and Mr. Warren walks back to his office. He doesn't even look at me. He's probably too immersed in his thoughts to even notice I'm there.

He almost enters his door. But he stops. Then, as if in slow motion, he turns around and walks back to my desk. He stands in the middle, occupying the empty space in front of me. That's where we were fighting yesterday, surrounded by the good people of the office. Now they don't move closer to form an arena, but they are watching us intently, in dead silence. You could hear a pin drop.

It doesn't seem to disturb Mr. Warren at all. When he looks at me, it becomes quite evident that if I managed to freak him out, he's over it. It's also quite obvious that he hasn't slept much more than I have, but other than that, he's his usual cool, calm and collected self. All detached and businesslike, like a fair and considerate boss should be. Even the color of his tie is boring enough to be considered professional.

"I need to apologize for overstepping the line," he says. "I guess you've had enough drama, and you wish to concentrate on your job only."

It's absolutely not what I expected, so it catches me off guard.

"I'm afraid, though," he goes on, "that I still can't be a different person. So, while I'll try to respect the boundaries you set, I still might do things you never asked for."

"Right." I nod. "Like provide me with things."

"Things you don't need." He shrugs.

"Right." I nod again. "Like with a reason to get up in the morning, when I'm an immovable object."

He raises his brows but refrains from commenting.

"But that's something I needed, I guess, so it's not a very good example," I muse. "I felt dead, like literally, dead, so a very powerful reason was needed to make me move again."

He clears his throat. Only then do I notice that it sounded too much like a confession. I take a deep breath. Then another. It's still not enough.

"Am I standing too close?" he asks, taking a small step back.

"In fact, you do," I admit. "You always stand too close. You came very close without me noticing it. Staying under the radar. Even the Pentagon's defense system failed to detect you in time. And now it's too late."

He sighs, shaking his head. He probably can't understand a word.

"Okay," he says. "Even if I'd like to ask you about it, I'm not here to ask you questions. You already gave a clear enough answer to all my questions, so... yeah, I have only one remaining now. But it's a serious one, even if you hate it."

"Why am I intransigent?" I guess.

"No," he says. "I already know that. It's something worse, I'm afraid. Something you've never really answered before."

I already know what it will be, even before he opens his mouth.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asks.

I close my eyes for a second. When I open them, I already know the answer. A real one, this time.

One that sends him back where he came from, approaching me in stealth mode, under the radar, avoiding my defense system. One that makes sure he'll never try to come close again. One that eliminates the mere possibility of getting into a situation like this, until the last day of humanity, and then some.

One that's 100% true.

"You already provide me with so much," I start. "But you're right, there is still something else I need."

He looks a bit surprised. In a pleasant way. I go on without thinking twice.

"My brain is showing me pictures I don't want to see. So yes, there is definitely something you could do to make it stop."

I have his full attention. He nods, then tilts his head in a quiet and thoughtful way. I carry on using a fitting, reasonable tone.

"So, under normal circumstances, I might ask you to fuck me senseless. But, alas, I can't even be fucked properly. So you could just lie down, and let me ride you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the faces of the people surrounding us. They all hold their breaths as one. The office is as silent as a crypt. Their bulging eyes and mouths agape are almost comical. They obviously can't believe their own ears. Some of the faces are as white as chalk. Some of them are as red as blood. But they are equally scandalized.

Everyone, except Mr. Warren. He simply nods, and without the slightest hint of hesitation, lies down on the floor. Exactly where he was standing, in the middle of the office. And remains there, lying, with his hands above his head, with his eyes closed, and with a serene expression on his face.

Bill is the first to find his voice.

"Whoa... just... whoa... okay, people, I happen to know a place, not far from here, they have the best breakfast in town, so hurry up, let's see what they have to offer, shall we?"

No one objects. Everyone runs to the door as if it was a fire drill. Or a real emergency, rather, a major one, threatening with mass extinction. Okay, honestly, they look like a fleeing herd of deer. They don't even dare to cast a look back.

Except for Bill. He turns back from the door, just as if he forgot something.

"Um, for today..."

I stare at him for a moment, with blank eyes. My stunned gaze probably resembles the one I expected from Mr. Warren a few minutes ago.

"Make it into a brunch," I advise him finally.