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Photo Finish

Three long weeks. Marla checked her calendar for the fifth time that morning and stared at the next cubicle, vacant, as it had been for twenty-one days. Where was Chet? Her work queue glared at her, each extra file on her screen a reminder that her coworker was shirking his duties.

He wasn’t on vacation. (He’d have bragged.) He’d said nothing about taking a leave. (He had bills to pay.) Was he ill? At death’s door? At near age forty (her best guess), Chet wasn’t old enough to have anything terminal. Although Marla’s knees reminded her daily that she was a solid fifty-two.

In the breakroom, word was Chet had won the lottery and quit the company, leaving the photos of his dog and his latest girlfriend pinned to the divider panel, the small plastic figure of Yoda next to his keyboard, and his spare jacket draped over this chair. But Marla didn’t believe it.

Her supervisor was mum about Chet, deflecting questions with a cryptic “I can’t say.”

And so Marla doubled down on her work queue, cursing Chet with each completed file.

“Freeloader.”

“Lazy ass.”

“Coward.”

Guilt crept over her. He might be odd, but her coworker wasn’t any of those other things, really. She was just angry at having to shoulder the full load of their work. With no explanation from him.

Her cell phone pinged.

I need that photo of Brandy.

Who was this?

Then it registered. He had her number.

Chet? she texted back. Where are you? What’s going on?

Bring Brandy’s photo and meet me outside the Starbucks on Main.

It was near break time; she could slip out for a quick errand.

OK, she responded. 10 minutes?

A thumbs-up appeared on her text. She would grill the man when they met. Find out why he went AWOL. Was he now a fugitive?

Not knowing whether Brandy was the dog or the girlfriend, Marla took both photos, tucked them into her purse and left the office at once. It was three blocks to Starbucks, and she strode purposefully, eager to hear Chet’s story.

He wore a ballcap with the brim pulled down, as though in disguise. That was the first detail she noticed. The second was the shimmer that surrounded him, almost like a hologram. What the …?

As she approached, he held up his hands. “Don’t come too near.” His face held both worry and excitement.

“I’ll stand right here, but you’ve got to tell me what’s happening.” She pulled out the photos from her purse and held them out. “I didn’t know which one you wanted.”

Chet’s form shimmered more intensely as he took them from her. “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t say a lot, because I don’t have much time, but I’m leaving.”

“Leaving Doylestown? Bucks County?” Marla would miss him, even if he was weird.

Chet’s laugh was more of a cough. “Leaving Earth. I insisted that they bring Brandy along, too.” He waved the photos. “They needed an image to locate her.”

Leaving … Earth? “Are you okay, Chet? Can I call someone for you?”

“No need,” he said. “I’ve got to go now.”

“And your dog?” Marla hoped he’d arranged for someone to adopt it. If he was having a mental health crisis, he wouldn’t be able to care for the critter until he was well.

He waved the photos at her again, this time singling out the canine. “Brandy’s coming. They promised me.”

The shimmering became blinding, and Chet was gone, leaving Marla alone on the sidewalk, the roar of traffic on the busy street muffling her gasp. She glanced around her, but no one else seemed to have noticed the flash of light that consumed her coworker.

Well, she was at a Starbucks. Might as well grab a latte before heading back to the office—and that endless queue of files.