Andrew Ferguson
It's too bright and sunshiney a day to lose your job. But the sun doesn't care that you're now unemployed. It has it's own job to do.
You had made it in early. Some random dream (something about a wasp or something buzzing around your head, chasing you down a stairwell) had woken you up an hour earlier than usual. And you hadn't been able to get back to sleep. Where the random urge to head in early came from, you aren't sure. But you got it, and so you did. Go in early that is. Whatever else you did that morning is between you and the mirror above your bathroom sink.
You have never been the first one into work. Suzie is. That's part of her job. To get in early. Turn on the lights. Brew the coffee. Get things turned on. Even if it's not in her job description, she does it anyway.
And when Suzie is on vacation, it's usually Max or Fredia who beat you in and unlock things. Max makes terrible coffee. It's no joke. Doesn't matter how he does it, even if he uses a K-cup, his coffee tastes like old gym socks. Everyone at works always calls him the Anti-Coffee. Max just shrugs and gulps down some of the coffee Suzie or you made.
Fredia doesn't make the coffee. But the again, she owns the place. So she doesn't have to.
But what she did have to do is tell you that the company was being closed down. She must have known ahead of time. When you got in early, Suzie was there, struggling with the door. The two of you tried, but the passcode for the door alarm didn't work.
You tried calling Fredia. You got a message saying her number was no longer in service.
Max got there, and that started the whole round of questions and no-answers all over again. He also tried Fredia and got the same result.
It was the Landlord who finally told you all what was going on.
Fredia hadn't paid rent on the space in seven months. He had gone in last night and switched out all the locks. He spoke to Fredia four days ago, telling her he was going to do it. She hadn't said a word.
The Landlord was decent enough to let you all in to get your stuff. But he only let you in one at a time and he watched you gather everything up. Once Max was done getting his stuff, the Landlord wished you all the best of luck and shut the door in your faces.
Suzie was crying and Max said he'd take her home. There was also some kind of thing going on between the two of them, though they never actually dated. It was against policy. Well. At least that's not an issue any more. Maybe they'll name one of the babies after you.
So you are standing there, a cardboard box in your hands with whatever few bits of yours that the Landlord let you take, watching Max's car pull down the street.
The numb of waking up early is wearing off. You were supposed to get paid tomorrow. Do you have enough in the bank? The first of the month is three days away.