Published: 2025-11-07
It was almost 5:00 PM, and Pedro prepared to leave work. After hours of sitting in front of the computer, his eyes burned, and the once thought to be ergonomic chair — which best days were already past — made his young back hurt. He looked at the bottom-right corner of his computer screen while fiddling with the blue pen he used to fill company reports. The leftmost number of the digital clock changed, Pedro smiled.
The sound of high heels on the marble floor announced the arrival of his boss, Mrs. Sánchez; she stood in the middle of the cubicle-filled floor, holding a thick stack of papers; employees knew that meant bad news.
“Who worked on forms 700 last week?” She asked.
Everyone remained silent. Of course, she already knew the answer, because every form had to be signed by the employee who filled it, plus, she was the one who assigned work, and kept records of who got to do work on what.
“I did,” Pedro said, making his hand visible through the sea of cubicles by raising it.
She turned her gaze in Pedro’s direction and walked towards him. The already tall woman looked like a giant from Pedro’s seat; the anger in her face was evident as she looked down on Pedro. Her crow’s feet accentuated as she scowled at him.
“Congratulations, Mr. Velázquez. You just volunteered for non-paid overtime.” She said while dropping the stack of paper on his desk.
The clock turned 5:00 PM, and with almost military precision, the workers stood up from their desks and marched towards the exit. Pedro sighed as the rest of the employees left the building without looking back.
Pedro buried his head in the stack of paper and got to work. He soon noticed the forms on top of the stack contained minor errors; on the other hand, the vast majority of them did not. He smiled.
His cellphone — which rested on top of his desk — vibrated, moving slightly across the wood surface. A message waited for Pedro after he unlocked the device.
“Are you mad?” It read. It was followed by a combination of punctuation that, when seen sideways, resembled a sad face.
“I’m not.” Was Pedro’s response, no hieroglyphs followed.
“Then come to see me!”
Pedro sighed as he stood up from his desk.
“I’m sorry I had to resort to this.” Was the explanation Pedro’s boss gave him when he entered her office.
Pedro walked to her and kissed her on the mouth. The passionate embrace lasted mere seconds, 10, 30, who knows? Regardless of how long it might have been, it felt eternal.
“You have to stop pulling me into this every time you have to stay overtime.”
“And what kind of boyfriend would rather let his poor girlfriend work at night by herself?”
“I don’t know. One that wanted to catch a sci-fi movie on cable tonight… Maybe?” “Seriously? You prefer little green men over the woman you love?” “Whoa. We’re talking about monsters here, I never said green men.”
Her eyes squinted with anger. Pedro smiled and moved closer to her; he found her annoyed face cute, for he didn’t shy away from making her angry. He sat on the top of her desk while she remained in her chair. Since his feet didn’t reach the floor, he kicked his feet as a child would.
“I think Alfred and Luis know,” Pedro said.
“They don’t know.”
“How come you are so sure?”
“Because if they knew I’d fire them.”
“I know, and you haven’t fired me.”
The cute look of annoyance returned to her face.
“What’s so bad about people knowing?” Pedro asked.
“Do I need to remind you that I’m your boss?”
“No, Mrs. Sánchez, I’m aware of it.”
“I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“I know, I know. Laura. All right.”
Pedro stood and paced the room, looking at the office he knew too well.
“All I’m saying is, we’re both adults and we should be able to choose who we want to be with.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Is it because of your husband?”
“I don’t have a husband.”
“Exactly! What’s the problem then?”
“Hmm, working together? Being your boss? Being a good 20 years older than you? Take your pick.”
“Details.”
Laura’s eyes fixated on the young man. So idealistic, so willful to love; it was intoxicating. His way with words was the quality she found the most attractive. Not his angelical face, marked jawline, and slim body; she had little appreciation for the banality of beauty; it was the ambition to dream that only young men had that she craved.
She bit her lip and beckoned to him, who stood on the other side of the room, fiddling with an ornament he found in one of her bookshelves. He smiled.
Laura’s desk became the altar where the two of them consummated their forbidden love.
A fresh stack of paper and the unpleasant smell of cheap instant coffee were Pedro’s only company in the sea of cubicles. The bottom-right corner of his computer screen marked 8:02 AM. Surrounded by three thin plywood walls and no ceiling, Pedro felt as lonely as an abandoned kitten, even if he was surrounded by people.
He cracked his fingers, opened his favorite spreadsheet software — or at least the one he hated the least —, and started working.
As the cells got filled, the coffee drank, and the paper stack to Pedro’s right became smaller than the one to his left, his trustworthy blue pen ran out of ink. He opened the top drawer of his desk to find a replacement pen; a small note with printed letters sat on top of his supplies, one that he didn’t remember leaving there. Pedro took the note in his hands; it smelled like perfume. It read:
“I ordered the DVD of that movie you missed.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He put the note into the shredder and printed a message of his own:
“The difference between monsters and little green men is that monsters have a heart.”
THE END.