"Tea?" the floor manager inquired, gesturing to Stellan to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

  "Thank you," Stellan answered, taking the offered seat.

  The office was minimalistic in terms of a corporate setting, a drab white with a single faded painting of the company president that hadn't been changed for several years. Reminding those who entered who was in charge. A small space for guests consisted of a sofa divided by a circular table, colored in bright grey and green. A potted bonsai sat on top of the main desk as well as several framed pictures of family members. And a bronze nameplate with the name "A. Bonner" completed the identity of the room.

  "How many cubes?" Mr. Bonner asked, pulling a string attached to a sugar cube and gently placing it into one of the porcelain teacups.

  "One please," Stellan replied.

  The ritual for making tea was finished quickly. Mr. Bonner placed the steaming cup on the circular table while steam drifted upward from the green-tinged liquid. Urging Stellan to grab the delicate glassware before slowly taking a tentative sip, the warmth spread across his tongue.

  A modest slurping happened for a few seconds before an awkward silence took place. Only to be stopped by one of them putting down the cup first, the porcelain making a soft clink against the wooden table. Wallowing in a suspenseful mood that started the conversation.

  "Shrooms?"

  Stellan choked mid-sip from the abrupt statement of his boss, tea nearly spilling as he coughed and set the cup down hastily on his lap. Making him appear like a child who'd gotten caught stealing a treat from a fridge. But that was too naive of a description compared to his current situation. Making him wince but he knew there was no point in avoiding the answer.

  "Sometimes?" Stellan responded, with a slight tremor in his hand that made small ripples across the tea's surface.

  "How often?" Mr. Bonner continued, partially halfway to finishing his own tea.

  "Only on my downtime…"

  "Is it? Due to a health condition?" Mr. Bonner asked with sincerity in his tone, leaning forward slightly as he awaited the answer.

  A cough was made for a moment, Stellan was the source. He'd thought his ordeals from earlier were done, only to be proven wrong here in his manager's room. But still he answered the concern.

  "No sir… it's uhhh for fun only."

  "Fun?" Mr. Bonner echoed, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yes…" Stellan said with a discomfited grin.

  "Any other hobbies instead of… this recreational sort?" Mr. Bonner continued asking, sipping in intervals during the interrogation.

  "I go to the gym religiously."

  "That's a habit. I'm asking about things you do for entertainment," the manager corrected, setting his cup down with deliberate care.

  "I used to play games on my computer… I think it goes as far as that," Stellan stated, tapping his knee in a reflexive manner which he didn't notice.

  "How about sports? You ever tried sports?"

  "Yes but uhh… I don't have time for it."

  The manager's brow raised higher. Making Stellan's heart race from the tense reaction, his pulse quickening with each passing second.

  "By time you mean?" the manager said, placing his teacup carefully on his desk. Crossing his fingers to support his chin while observing. "Company allocated time?"

  Stellan unintentionally gulped from the question. Considering if he should answer honestly, but went with what he felt was correct.

  "More or less sir."

  Another uneventful pause transpired before the conversation continued.

  "How old are you again, Mr. Moss?"

  "27 sir…"

  "27?" Mr. Bonner said, who was halfway finished with his tea, swirling the remaining liquid as he contemplated. "When I was 27, my second boy was on his way," he shared. Making Stellan put his faith in his poker face, which was tested to its limits from the sudden change of context.

  "It was a different time. The economy was very… forgiving," the manager continued. Who was hoping for a reaction from Stellan. "Is it because of financial difficulties that you find pleasure in this sort of recreation?"

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  Stellan coughed, another one. His jaw tightened from trying to maintain his composure. Sipping some of the cooler tea before answering, the liquid now lukewarm against his lips.

  "No sir," Stellan answered nervously.

  A stare of intent and a small knowing grin was made. Until a sheet of paper was pulled out from underneath the desk drawer, the rustling sound breaking the silence.

  "I hope not," the manager stated. "I think we're paying you sufficiently enough," he added with a cheeky grin before unfolding the paper and scanning its contents.

  "How would you feel with a month's worth of leave?"

  "Excuse me sir?" Stellan reacted, his carefully maintained poker face crumbling in an instant.

  "With pay of course…" Mr. Bonner added, tracing the words on the paper with his finger.

  "You have a clean record so to speak unlike your colleagues. Not much in the way of causing trouble… so it's the most I could do," he continued.

  Stellan was surprised by the generous offer. But needed to question why, the suspicion creeping into his mind despite the apparent kindness.

  "I don't understand sir. Is it because of earlier? I'll make sure it won't happen again," he pleaded.

  "No… well yes in a way," Mr. Bonner insinuated, relishing his tea which had just met the bottom of the cup. "It's more about keeping up appearances rather than anything really."

  The sound of the glassware being placed on his desk was subtle but loud enough to be noticed. He then slowly approached Stellan, whose thoughts were still processing many matters at hand, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to make sense of the situation.

  "Let's just say that word gets out rather quickly. And for the aftermath… well, I'd rather not have any of it," he commented, sitting directly in front of his employee where only a round table served as a divider.

  "So, you want me to take a leave of absence?" Stellan asked.

  "Yes, but on the records it'll be listed as a suspension."

  "And I'll get paid for this?"

  "I can extend it up to three months, but that's the most I can give you…"

  "I don't know sir. I think that's too… underhanded?" Stellan questioned with authentic concern, his brow furrowing as he weighed the implications. He was thinking that this might be a setup, one that would be too troublesome to get out of. So he continued to observe carefully.

  "Listen son," the manager sighed, rubbing his temples in slow circles as if fighting off a headache. "It's either this or you get a full routine check-up every week. Either way both are tedious but one is lighter than the other."

  "Then I'll take it sir… if you don't mind," Stellan answered.

  "Good. I'll have my secretary send you the paperwork. All that's needed is your signature."

  "How about my work? Should I at least teach someone how to process my stuff?"

  "Don't worry about it. I'll take a raffle on the names of the employees," the manager dismissed with a wave of his hand.

  "Are you sure that you're feeling fine?"

  "With how this conversation is headed, I'm feeling better than I have in recent years."

  "Splendid. In the meantime, find something that you enjoy that doesn't involve blocking your blood streams," Mr. Bonner suggested, his mood suddenly shifting to a less pleasant demeanor. "I'm telling you this since I don't want this happening again," he demanded, his voice dropping to a firmer tone that left no room for argument. Before ending it with a firm confirmation, "Do you understand me?"

  "Yes sir…" Stellan validated. Forgetting the warm tea that had grown cold.

  The conversation came to an end. With both parties having reached a discreet agreement. Stellan slowly stood up, weighing both the positives and negatives, his mind already calculating the pros and cons of the unexpected offer. Before his manager, who was still puzzled by the lack of reaction, gestured to him.

  "You can leave the cup there. And make sure that you get all your belongings in order before you go."

  The usual bustle of the office room continued unchanged. The rows of heads ducking down to file numbers, the persistent sound of keyboard clacking and the hushed conversations being upheld remained exactly where Stellan had left it.

  He was still in disbelief at his discovery. But this short pause was meant to give him reprieve, a moment to breathe and collect himself before facing what came next. To ground him in his circumstance despite it holding no semblance of logic.

  The sound of door hinges locking as he exited the office went unnoticed by most. He scanned the room, only to be met by familiar eyes who had no time to spare for their curiosity.

  Except one man whose expression was tainted with guilt, his features twisted in a way that made his remorse painfully obvious. Steadily approaching Stellan in a hurried pace, cutting him off on his direction to his cubicle.

  Ford tried to explain, "Listen man, about the things earl–" matching Stellan's gait while he spoke.

  "You mean when you basically ratted me out?" Stellan shot back, continuing to his station while being followed by curious gazes.

  "Yeah… Look I'm sorr–" Ford continued, only to be interrupted by an increase of pace. "Hey wait, Stellan…"

  Stellan returned to his desk with a conflicted emotion. In front of him was the cause of all his current distress, the computer monitor. Yet it evaded the blame. He couldn't explain to anyone what he'd just experienced, the words catching in his throat every time he tried to form them. It was too vivid to be dismissed as a bad memory. Yet too surreal to be called reality.

  His eyes stayed fixed on the monitor. Taunting it to show the same words that had scarred him and forced him to sin. Yet Ford caught up to him. Who was gasping despite the short distance.

  "I know it was not the best choice of words, and I'm sorry," he apologized, breathing in intervals from too much smoking. "I was worried… And thought that you were having a bad trip. You looked creepy man…"

  He then took out his phone, an old model but good enough to watch videos online. Ford explained, holding it up to show Stellan the screen as if to prove his point. "I could have taken a video but… it didn't seem right under those circumstances."

  "If you're really sorry, take care of my things while I'm out," Stellan replied coldly, grabbing something from his desk drawer before heading toward the elevator.

  "Wait? Shit, did you get fired?" Ford questioned, his voice cracking slightly with genuine worry.

  Stellan stopped his stride upon hearing the genuine concern from his workmate. Turning his shoulder and offering a cheeky grin before replying.

  "Nah, better…"