After Spanish Proverb

Oh, mercifullest one of all,
Oh, generous as dear,
None lived so lowly, none so small,
Thou couldst withhold thy tear:

How swift, in pure compassion,
How meek in charity,
To offer friendship to the one
Who begged but love of thee!

Oh, gentle word, and sweetest said!
Oh, tender hand, and first
To hold the warm, delicious bread
To lips burned black of thirst.

-- Dorothy Parker

He just needed her to know, and maybe that was the mistake. Would it have killed him to keep his stupid mouth shut? At least then he wouldn't have to slink into the office after everyone else is long gone home so that he can pack up his desk. He could have had a lame little party in the conference room with a cake and an inappropriate speech (and some tears) from Michael. As it stands, the only party he'll be at tonight is one of the pity variety he's throwing for himself and six friends of the longneck sort.

He's already deleted his personal things from the computer, so he begins putting his personal possessions into a creased cardboard box. The desktop is easily taken care of, but when he starts opening desk drawers he feels like he should have brought along a team of archeologists to assist in the dig. He grabs a trash can and starts chucking anything he doesn't recognize into the bin.

Receipts from two years ago, more expired coupons, some dead batteries, and handwritten notes that once made his heart slip into his stomach are tossed away with abandon. He can't afford to care about this stuff anymore, because... what's the point? The past is the past is the past is the past and not his future. He doesn't have a future here.

He opens the last drawer and begins sifting through the papers. It's mostly order forms and other work junk that goes into the garbage without a second thought, but then he stumbles upon a health care form that has dozens of fictitious diseases written on it in a familiar, feminine handwriting. He reads each one over carefully and smiles faintly when he gets to the nanorobot plague. He sets the paper aside, into his "to keep" pile, then gets back to the task at hand.

When he finishes, he shuts the drawer and stretches his arms over his head. He looks into the cardboard box and tries not to think about the dozens of other boxes that are already packed and ready to go in his living room. While he's looking to distract himself from these thoughts, he notices the paper clips and yogurt lid still tangled around the desk lamp. He reaches out and slides his index finger over the paper clip trail but stops short before he touches the yogurt lid.

He gingerly removes the necklace from around the lamp and slips it over his head. It doesn't feel the same as it did that day. He doesn't feel like a winner.

He picks up the health care form and reads the words, but he can't find that laughter again. This is the most he's ever felt of nothing.

He sighs, crumples up the health care form and tosses it in the trash. He looks at the empty reception desk and tries to imagine staring at a temp while he knows she's on her honeymoon, then lifts the necklace from around his neck and dangles it over the trash can for a moment before ultimately deciding to let it drop.

There's no future in paper clips and yogurt lids - not for him, anyway.

He stands up, picks up the cardboard box and makes his way to the door. He stops near the reception desk, unsure of what he wants (or needs) to do. He chews his bottom lip for a moment then sets the cardboard box down on the couch near the door. He steps behind the reception desk and feels like a jester in the queen's court (which is what he's always been, he thinks).

He scribbles on a Post-It note and sticks it to the computer monitor: Keep in touch. - Jim

He knows it's the cheap way out, but she took the easy way out first, so he figures it's a fair fight.

He grabs the cardboard box and leaves the office for what he thinks is the last time.