Pollen's P.O.V.
When I was about to take my seat back at Workstation Cluster 04, someone tapped my shoulder lightly from behind. I turned around, and it was my boss, Mr. Henderson. He adjusted his glasses and took a half-step back to give me some space.
"Ms. Anderson," he said.
He composed himself, his posture stiffening as he adopted his usual formal office demeanor. He cleared his throat, coughing quickly into his fist for a moment before speaking again.
'I should tell her about this inside the office,' his thought bubble materialized above his thinning hair, flickering in a muted shade of gray.
'I don't want the other employees to hear this.'
A second later, the text within his pinkish-gray bubble shifted rapidly.
'They might say I'm giving her too much special treatment.'
"Let's talk in my office," Mr. Henderson said aloud, his voice dropping slightly as if he were delivering something crucial and confidential.
I stood there, completely confused by what he had to say. My mind scrambled to make sense of the fragments I had just read.
What on earth was he about to tell me that would make my coworkers think he was giving me special treatment?
Did I mess up the database repository during yesterday's critical deployment cycle?
I didn't understand it at all, but I kept my face neutral and responded to my boss.
"Alright, sir."
I followed Mr. Henderson as he turned and began walking down the carpeted aisle toward the executive suites. Because I hadn't taken my neuro-stabilizer this morning, stray thought bubbles from the passing cubicles kept appearing and disappearing in my peripheral vision, a soft, overlapping blur of corporate stress, lunch plans, and coding bugs.
I kept my eyes locked on the back of my boss's blazer to keep from getting dizzy.
As we walked past the front desks, I passed right by Dahlia. She didn't look up from her screen, but she gave me a quick, subtle teasing smile as I went by—the kind of look that made it seem like she knew something I didn't. Or maybe I was just imagining things because of my heavy head. I deliberately chose not to glance at her bubble thought this time because I wanted to focus entirely on what Mr. Henderson had to say first.
He opened the heavy, frosted-glass door of his office for me, stepping aside so I could enter. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of black coffee and polished wood, a stark relief from the low hum of the main floor. He closed the door behind us, cutting off the office noise completely, and walked around his large desk to his executive leather chair.
"Sit down, Ms. Anderson," he said, gesturing with an open palm toward the empty chair across from him.
I moved forward and sat down, carefully smoothing the fabric of my trousers. My hands were resting on my lap, my fingers twisting together slightly from the lingering anxiety. I let out a soft, quiet sigh, waiting for the axe to drop.
"Ms. Anderson, I want to give you a twoweeks vacation leave," Mr. Henderson said, leaning forward slightly as his forearms rested on the polished wood of his desk.
I blinked, the words catching me completely off guard. Why was he suddenly handing me a two-week vacation leave out of nowhere?
"Uhm, may I know the reason, sir, on why you're giving me such a long vacation?" I asked, keeping my voice as polite and even as possible.
I definitely wanted a vacation—anyone working non-stop like me would jump at the chance for a break—but not so suddenly like this. In the corporate world, an unrequested, sudden two-week absence usually meant you were either getting fired or being pushed out of a project.
Cough, cough.
Mr. Henderson cleared his throat again, a nervous habit he always did before breaking big news, and adjusted his posture.
"You've been invited to Starry Nightsky Island for two weeks," he announced.
A bright, uncharacteristic smile spread across his face, and his eyes practically sparked with a sudden rush of excitement.
He leaned his face down, resting his chin on his hands as he beamed across the desk at me.
'How did he know?'
A heavy confusion lingered in my head, the riddle of the dark blue envelope in my tote bag becoming entirely too real. I sat there looking completely perplexed in front of him, my chest tightening. Without thinking, my eyes drifted just above his head, locking onto his gray thought bubble as the text inside it violently shifted to a bright, envious yellow.
'She is so lucky for getting an invitation from the CEO himself. The Morris Group never hands out executive retreats to mid-level staff. Mr. Morris must really value her track repository.'
"Mr. Henderson, did Mr. Morris contact you directly and ask you to give me a two weeks leave?" I asked him, my voice barely above a whisper.
"He sent me an email this morning," Mr. Henderson replied smoothly, gesturing toward his glowing computer screen.
"He wanted you to enjoy the island."
"He gave you an invitation right?"
I was about to ask how any of this made sense when he quickly cut in.
"He mentioned it in the email. The date is indicated at the back of the card, right on the bottom left corner. Check it. I already assigned your upcoming project tracks to Ms. Rinston and the rest of the database team."
Above his head, his gray thought bubble shifted to a soft, simple tone.
'She should be happy. This is a once-in-a-lifetime invitation.'
I didn't even know what to say. My mind went completely blank. I had been so overwhelmed by the sheer shock of seeing the CEO's name on the paper that I hadn't even noticed any date on the card at all.
"Please enjoy your vacation, and make sure to get me an autograph from the CEO if you happen to see him there," Mr. Henderson said with a light, teasing chuckle.
I just nodded, my throat entirely too tight to form words, and excused myself. I needed to get back to my desk immediately.
I needed to check that card.
"Thank you for your consideration," I murmured automatically.
I turned and left his office, my feet moving as fast as decorum allowed as I hurried back down the carpeted corridor toward my seat.
But the moment I reached Workstation Cluster 04, a familiar pair of hands clamped onto my sleeve. Dahlia grabbed my arm, her face lit up with an intense, frantic energy as she excitedly started shaking me back and forth.
"I know that look!" Dahlia gasped, her eyes wide.
"Did he give you a bunch of projects too? I knew it! He gave a massive load to everyone today!"
Her bright expression instantly turned into a dramatic frown. Above her head, her pastel pink thought bubble bubbled over with exaggerated pictures of heavy stacks of paperwork.
'Our boss is so harsh for giving us such extreme work!'
Dahlia pouted heavily, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared directly at me, completely waiting for my response.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. How on earth was I supposed to explain this to her? How could I tell her that while everyone else was drowning in extra coding tasks, I was just handed an exclusive, all-expenses-paid luxury holiday by the most powerful billionaire in the city?
Unable to look her in the eye, I forced my gaze away from her, staring down at the keyboard as my mind frantically scrambled for a lie.
I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. Dahlia was as precious as a jewel to me, always radiating a pure, honest warmth that made it impossible to deceive her
"N-no, I was given a vacation... for two weeks," I whispered, keeping my voice as low as possible.
"A vacation for TWO WEEKS?!" Dahlia blurted out, her voice booming across the quiet floor, completely unaware of how loud she was being.
"Shhh!!!" I panicked, quickly reaching out to cover her mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.
Above her head, her pastel pink thought bubble instantly shifted, turning a sharp, confused shade of magenta as the text rapidly scrambled.
'Why was she given a two-weeks vacation when the rest of us are completely overloaded with work?!'
The surrounding room went dead silent for a fraction of a second. Then, a low hum of chatter broke out across Workstation Cluster 04 as my nearby coworkers started turning their heads, looking over their dividers, and whispering frantically to each other.
"Let's talk later," I murmured urgently against her face before pulling my hand back.
I didn't wait for her to respond. With my head spinning from the slight dizziness and the sudden weight of everyone's curious stares, I hurriedly retreated back to the safety of my own seat, desperate to hide behind my monitors and check the hidden date on the card.