Shadow Play by Sarina Dahlan

Author:Sarina Dahlan [Sarina Dahlan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The 3 Hapas
Published: 2018-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Ghost Moon

New York City, U.S.A., 2018

“This was supposed to be the year I got a promotion!” Clementine screamed into the phone. “You said so.”

Streaks of mascara painted parallel lines on her face, making her look as though she was ready for war.

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” Her voice sounded shrill in her ears, like her mother’s when she was in manic mode.

She paused while listening to the voice on the other side of the line.

“Mercury retrograde? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. She brought her right hand to her lips and began to nibble at her finger nails.

“Hmm. Shadow period? That sounds awful. What do you recommend?”

She stared at the blue logo dancing on her computer monitor. Skydome. Pantone© 293. She had picked it. Psychologically, blue was supposed to evoke calm and trust. The color of stability and reliability.

The image bounced across the screen like a blue bunny. She always thought Blue Bunny would make a good capital name. No one would bomb a city called Blue Bunny. Blue Bunny, Iraq. She was being royally fucked by the color blue.

“Okay. Okay. Umm hmm. Today? Yeah, I can be there,” she said, feeling as if she was being handed a life line.

A series of heavy knocks rapped against the door and Clementine jumped. She realized then she had been biting her nails. Such a bad habit.

“Just a minute!” she yelled at the door. Then she whispered into the phone, “I need to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

She unlocked the door. It was The Owl from HR. Everyone called her that behind her back. Clementine did not even know why. The woman looked nothing like the bird except for her tawny brown hair. Maybe it was her wise expression. Or her heart-shaped face.

The Owl took a step back when she saw Clementine. The HR Director cleared her throat in an attempt to be professional. You have to be professional when you have an office with a door.

“Are you ready?” The Owl said. Her voice was deep and melodious.

The Director of HR wondered whether she should tell Clementine about her mascara stained face. There was nothing in the company’s manual about how to professionally handle someone else’s embarrassment.

The poor girl. She has no idea. She decided she would tell her because it was a good thing to do. It was akin to telling someone they had spinach in their teeth or a post-it note stuck to their bum. Awkward, yet necessary.

“Before we leave, you may want to look in the mirror.”

“What?”

“A mirror. Do you have one? Use the window. It’s almost dark enough.”

Clementine walked to the expanse of high quality one-inch sealed insulated glass. A year back, she read about a window falling out of the 27th floor of a financial district high rise, almost crushing a congregation of smokers. If the window had smashed just a few feet closer, it would have been the quickest death from smoking in the history of mankind. Would the Surgeon General put that on the warning labels?

Clementine wished for a cigarette.

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