Leave it.

By Tuesday it was finally unbearable. She walked into his office and placed the reports softly on his desk. A pefect and well rehearsed smile on her face. It was too much.
-You don’t have to do it, you know?
-The reports?
She was puzzled. Of course she had to do the reports, it was pretty much her job’s description.
-I mean smile. You don’t have to smile.
She giggled. And blushed a little.
-I was just being nice...
-I know. Thats why you don’t have to do it. You see, everyday I see you move gracefully around the office, diligently work with your adorable, subtly sad demeanor. You make me think of a bird in a cage. I guess not everyone is cut for office work. I know I’m not. I thought I was, but I’m not. Now, I like you. I like you in a way that makes me shiver. I cannot tell you, because we are confined to the limits set by the hypoallergenic, color-coded simulacrum of a relationship acceptable at the office. I think I had an epiphany this morning. I no longer want to be chief senior executive, whatever that means. I no longer want the company tie. I no longer want casual Fridays. This can’t be it. So you find yourself in a conondrum. You can either giggle a bit more, go back into you cubicle and tell a funny anecdote one day about and odd coworker. It is almost lunch time, we can leave right now and noone will ask us where.

Silence. A long, agonic instant. A fax humms somewhere. Tic-tac. A chill down the spine.

A nod.

They walked into the elevator, and were never seen again.