At least that's what it looks like to most passer-bys. What they wouldn't notice is the fact he is concentrating on the reflection off his computer screen that may or may not show quite clearly RG's desk. Her empty desk.
There's no cigarette smoke smell in the office anymore. RD's confused.
Her things are still there, but she hasn't been in office the past few days. Nonchalant and innocuous queries are met with ignorance, so he has no idea where she is.
His texts remain unanswered and his Facebook messages look like he's drafting a monologue. He continues to stare hard and for some reason has a craving for a cigarette. Maybe he wants to bring about some form of familiarity back into his office life.
Co-workers drift by making small talk and are deflected by his wooden answers and vacant stares. Most blame his ridiculous workload, while the others blame drugs and alcohol. I guess both are partially right, but mostly wrong.
RD continues to stare and he doesn't notice that the noise around has long since died down as work nears its end. He just keeps on sitting down and not moving, staring at the reflection of the empty desk. A fly drifts by, an unwelcome guest into the office, right past his nose and he doesn't even care.
His eyes finally drop, slightly dry from the fact he rarely blinked for about 5 hours. He is breathless and tired, but knows that his mind will never stop buzzing from the doubt that is eating his mind. She's gone and not coming back. She's dead and not coming back? She's taken leave and may come back, but wouldn't stay in the same office. She quit and is never coming back. He's useless at sex.
The silence grows as he starts to pack his bag, the work left undone, though no-one notices. Books tumble into his bag along with pens and random paraphernalia that has no place on his desk. He doesn't even notice.
There's no cigarette smoke smell in the office anymore.
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