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When she finally looked up at me, her expression was unreadable. She wasn't angry. Not guilty. Just… encouraging.
"I didn't expect to see you," she said softly.
The rear view of a woman in an office | Source: Midjourney
Rear view of a woman in an office | Source: Midjourney
“I needed to see you,” I replied. “To understand what’s going on.”
There was a long pause.
She didn't deny it. Didn't rush to reassure me. She simply slowly rolled up her sleeves. Both of them. Her wrists were marked, discolored but still marked by irritation. As if someone had pressed rubber against her skin, too hard, for too long.
A woman sitting at a desk | Source: Midjourney
A woman sitting at a desk | Source: Midjourney
"Do you want to know what it is?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded. I don't trust my voice yet. I trusted Nara, of course, but something about it seemed so off... so strange, so different.
“They came from a fitness brand prototype,” she says. “We developed them as part of a new wellness initiative for the company. It’s tied to performance metrics and health tracking. There’s pressure to make it work… quickly. We had few testers. I volunteered to be a tester.”
"Okay..." I said, trying to understand. "A tester?"
“A watch! Watches,” she said.
“It’s… really interesting.”
A watch on a table | Source: Midjourney
A watch on a table | Source: Midjourn
“And honestly, I just wanted a new challenge at work. The accounting department is great and all, but there's nothing fun about it! It's perfect because it's part of an innovation task force where we collaborate across departments.”
She paused, watching me, as if trying to gauge whether this made things better or worse.
“They’re cheap,” she added. “It’s uncomfortable. But the data is important. And for the sensors to capture the right data, the band needs to be tight. Too tight, probably.”
Close-up of a serious woman | Source: Midjourney
Close-up of a serious woman | Source: Midjourney
I was still watching him. I studied every word, every pause, every movement of his mouth. I didn't know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn't this.
She sighed and walked over to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick file.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to me.
A file on a desk | Source: Midjourney
A file on a desk | Source: Midjourney
The cover read: “Integrated Wellness Automation and Reporting Proposal: Draft for Director’s Review.”
I picked it up. The folder was heavier than I expected. Inside were charts, notes, approval forms, performance logs. His handwriting was scribbled in the margins, short bursts of thought, calculations, tasks to be completed. This wasn't just a rough draft of a concept.
She had been building it for weeks. Maybe months.
continued on the next page:
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