Terry Lake lifts her brown box and begins to fill it with personal items from her desk. She has always known that this day would come; she just didn't expect it to come so soon.
It is late, nearly midnight. The offices were nearly all abandoned, save for a few self-professed workaholics. She hopes a certain workaholic won't wish her farewell tonight. She doesn't need another reason to get drunk.
"Hey," a voice calls out, causing Terry to curse silently. She turns, and doesn't even try to smile at her former partner, Don Eppes.
"Hi, Don," she replies flatly. She turns back to her desk, and picks up a pencil. She hates herself for her weakness.
"How's it feel?" Don asks, sitting down at her chair, forcing Terry to look at him. She knows he is taking in the weariness on her face, as well as the look of complete exhaustion she had seen when looking in the mirror a few minutes before.
"How does what feel?" Terry asks, looking down. Suddenly, the thought of drinking away the night, as well as the pain, seems inescapably inviting.
"Your last night at the office," Don elucidates. She can see that there is a far more important question in his mind, one that he is afraid to ask, one that she is afraid to answer.
"Busy," Terry answers tersely. She wishes he would just leave her alone.
There is a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. Don taps the desk quietly, and the barely audible noise begins to test Terry's patience. She angrily snatches up a handful of papers, and shoves them into the box.
Don ignores her obvious irritation, and hands her a manila folder. She grabs it, nodding curtly in thanks.
"What are you going to do, job-wise?" Don says, his voice a tone softer.
"I don't know," Terry says, still doing her best not to look at the man. She has finished packing.
For the first time that night, or week for that matter, she willingly looks at Don. She takes in his handsome features framing those eyes that have tormented her for months.
"Goodbye, Don," she says softly, and begins to leave. She feels a strange feeling rise in her gut, a tightness, almost a nausea.
Suddenly, she feels a strong, but gentle hand on her shoulder. She shudders, her spine tingling. When was the last time he has touched her so gently?
"Terry," he begins. She does not turn, dreading the words he is about to say.
"Is it me?" He asks, his voice betraying his pain. Her head drops; she cannot answer him.
Her silence, however, is answer enough for Don. His hand drops from her shoulder and he walks away, guilt clearly consuming him.
Terry swallows hard, blink away a tear, and leaves the office.
Author's Note- I may have a second chapter. Again, like The Odds, it all depends on your opinion! However, if I do have a second chapter, the rating will most likely be raised, do to use of alcohol and language. Thank for reading!