Danielle made her entrance into his workspace as Joe felt the world go into slow motion and wobble around him. Her entire effect was heightened somehow—the flawless business suit, the push-up bra, the trendy black glasses—everything about her actually seemed transcendent. And he was totally unprepared for the meek expression she wore, which simply asked, is everything okay?

“Hey,” she said, softly, her eyes concerned.

“Hi,” Joe replied.

“You’ve been quiet. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“It felt like I had to come in at some point.”

There was silence to follow, as he looked into her eyes. Her expression was pure sympathy, and her voice was velvet as she whispered to him. “Joe, I wanted to say sorry. Sorry if I’ve been… too forward with you. Most guys, well, they usually like it.”

It was such a dig at him, he couldn’t stand it. It felt like he’d been smacked across the face with a shovel. “No,” he muttered. “I do like it. I’m just…” His words vanished. He just couldn’t find them.

It was like she knew every little thing going on inside of his head, because she smiled at him—and it was wicked one. The same one he kept seeing. It hit him hard, and it opened the floodgates, as it all came roaring back. Two nights ago, amidst a cloud of alcohol and disorientation, his love for her had been so strong and exuberant that the mattress hung halfway off the side of the box spring by the time they were done, and they nearly toppled out of the bed altogether. And then last night, in whatever place that had been, in whatever version of her that was—where she was fully in control, with her eager bucking and bouncing, her head tilted up toward the sky. He could hear again exactly how she sounded as she neared her peak, and her wailing, climactic song rang in his head, even at that moment, as he sat in the quiet, mundane, ridiculous office, both of them wearing formal wear that felt more like silly costumes than anything else. Her wicked smile ran so wonderfully counter to the whole façade, and with its sustained fix on him the transition to follow happened rather quickly, as her clothes vanished away in a few sweeping strokes—the effect was like the eraser tool in a graphic arts software, configured to only affect her outer fabric shell, and it leapt deftly across her in giant, eager swaths. And so revealed underneath was her lacy black lingerie, the kind she often wore with garter straps and sheer leggings, which hugged her wondrously smooth skin, and all of it punctuated by her tattoos that he was so infatuated with. They were her little secrets—by day, mostly concealed underneath her professional wrapper, and by night, they’d greet him pleasantly each time he undressed her. Joe would kiss each one sequentially, and everywhere else on her body, his fingers running gently across her smooth skin, through her silky hair, the anticipation overwhelming, almost blinding.

“Are you okay?” Danielle asked, her clothes returning, with the suddenness of an undo button. Her expression was set back to pure concern, as though nothing had happened.

He was not okay. He’d just literally undressed her with his eyes. If she’d noticed then she didn’t show it. But it seemed someone else might have. Somewhere in the background he’d heard a yipping shriek from a passing coworker.

It felt like a defibrillator was on his chest. He had to move. Somewhere, anywhere. If he just stayed put, God only knew what would happen. There might be another earthquake or something. Indeed, he could already feel the world shaking as Danielle shot a wide-eyed look at the walls of the building around them.

“Excuse me,” Joe mumbled, as he turned away from her rapidly. He retreated quickly and scampered through the rows of cubicles, his entire world still breathing in and out. Random employees popped their heads up from their cubicles like prairie dogs emerging from their holes, wondering if they’d imagined the building shaking, or if it was actually real. Clearly, it was real—enough picture frames were tilted sideways, and somewhere nearby he heard glass shatter. Joe ignored it all. He struck it from his mind, the fact that he’d seemingly caused an earthquake—fuck it. It was minor, comparatively. Within a few more seconds he crossed through the front lobby. The receptionist eyed him curiously. She was a middle-aged woman named Susan.

“Joe?” she asked.

He pushed the button for an elevator to take him down, and he had not the wherewithal to reply to Susan. While waiting he couldn’t keep from peering back from where he’d come from, and so he saw Danielle pacing slowly in his wake, her expression one of pure bewilderment, like she genuinely had no idea what was happening. She was a glorious actress, like she was completely innocent in all of this, and the entire thing was just in his head.

“Joe?” Danielle asked.

Both women, Danielle and the receptionist, Susan, stared at him like he was a crazy person.

He wondered again if he was losing his mind. Both women sure thought so.

But then heard the crisp bell tone of an elevator arriving, and he exhaled in relief. The doors opened, and mindlessly he stepped in. They couldn’t shut quickly enough though, as their confused glances shot into the opening. Finally the doors closed, and Joe breathed as he descended to the ground floor. There were a few other passengers in the elevator with him, but Joe ignored them and he focused only on the sound of the elevator as it rumbled down the shaft. It stopped on the street level, and after the doors opened Joe walked briskly through the building lobby and then outside into the humid summer air of the late afternoon.

The downtown street was bustling and Joe immersed himself into the crowd. He walked further and further away from his building, not yet knowing where he was going, but not really caring either. He’d let the flow of pedestrians take him wherever it may. He was a floating piece of debris in a swiftly moving current. Block after block passed by, and still Joe walked. He eventually calmed, while lost within the bustling crowds. It made him feel anonymous—which was a feeling he quite enjoyed. He stuck to the shadows of the large buildings around him to try to stay cool, but nevertheless the day was hot enough to already feel the sweat on his skin underneath his clothes.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call, and tension bit him again as he pulled it out of his pocket.

It was a number he didn’t recognize, but it had a D.C. area code. Together with the fact that he’d just bolted from work, Joe assumed it was someone from his office, wondering where he was. He contemplated whether or not to answer. He finally did, reluctantly.

It was Susan—the receptionist.

“Joe? Joe, where’d you go?” she asked.

“Hi Susan. I just… I had to step out.”

“Step out? Well, a couple people just asked for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and Danielle actually seemed, like, concerned about you. What’s going on?”

Joe realized he was not at all prepared to have this conversation.

“She’s not the type guys normally run away from,” she added.

Even Susan, the middle-aged receptionist, just had to sneak that in, Joe thought, bitterly. She wondered what was wrong with him, and why he wasn’t trying to fuck Danielle. It was such a great hypocrisy. The whole world acted overbearingly politically correct, but really they just wondered what was wrong with him and why he wasn’t fucking her.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, after he didn’t reply.

“Yeah. Susan? Can you just tell them that I had to take off a bit early? That there was a sudden emergency? A family emergency?”

“Sure, Joe. I’ll let everyone know. I hope you’re okay. You’re kind of… scaring me.”

He was quiet for too long, simply unable to speak, unable to process all of the strange thoughts in his head. It was clear that she thought he was full of shit—which made sense. Joe had always been a terrible liar.

“I’m okay. Really, Susan, I’m fine. I just got to go. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Okay. Take care, now.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

He hung up and tucked his phone away, trying not to think about how awkward and uncomfortable that had been. He thought maybe it would be something he’d have to get used to. He wasn’t the same anymore. Everything in his life had changed.

Joe kept walking aimlessly, without a destination in mind. He walked because it was something to do. But it wasn’t long before his hand darted into his pocket again, and fished out his phone.

There was a new text—from Danielle.

omg what’s going on?? are you okay?

He considered for some time how he’d reply. Finally, with shaky hands, he replied, impulsively deciding to throw a smokescreen at her.

do you have a boyfriend Danielle?

His fingers typed it quickly and hit Send before he could think better of it.

Seconds later his phone rang.

“Hey,” he said quietly, bringing the phone to his ear.

“So is that what this is all about?” she asked.

No, he thought. It was really about the fact that he wanted her so badly that it actually scared him, but at the same time he wasn’t even sure if she was totally real or not. So, if he continued things with her, then he might not ever come back to reality. Or something like that. For a dizzying second he thought about actually trying to explain that to her, but then he stopped himself.

It was utterly absurd. The smokescreen was easier. Way easier.

“Well, Danielle, I’ve seen some guy all over you in your Instagram photos,” Joe muttered, finally blurting it out. “I mean, who is that guy?” His voice was shaky and he hated how it sounded.

He could feel her scowl through the phone.

“What, you’re social media stalking me? I thought you hated that shit.”

“I do. I do hate it. But I just can’t help it. I can’t stay away from it.”

She sighed.

“What?” Joe asked.

“His name is Landon.”

“Landon?”

“Yes.”

Joe didn’t reply, he only thought about how well that name fit. He could have guessed it, even.

“Look, he’s a good friend, okay?”

“Just a friend?”

“What… are you jealous, Joe?” He knew she was smiling when she asked.

“Well, I don’t know. He just seems like some sort of badass. It makes me feel inadequate.” Joe felt himself lightening. He even smiled as he said it. The smokescreen, evolving.

She giggled. “You’re cute.”

“I don’t want to be cute. That’s an insult.”

“Well, you’re also pretty mysterious, you know.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I have no idea what’s going on in your head. It’s kind of hot, I guess, but also makes you kind of… hard to read.”

“You’re the one with this plastic metro looking dude all over your Instagram that you’ve never once mentioned this whole time.” Joe could hear the spite returning to his words. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop it.

“Oh, c’mon,” she griped. “You’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“What about this Jennifer girl? You’ve been keeping her quite a secret. Or at least trying to. But I know she’s been on your mind lately. Like a lot. And you’ve never once mentioned her. So… same deal, right?”

As she talked Joe felt the panic slowly building within him. He wasn’t ready for Jennifer and Danielle to have any kind of intersection whatsoever. It was too much for his brain. So he ended the call without another word. Then he stopped walking for a moment while dumbly clutching his cell phone. He stared at it, waiting to see if she’d call again. She didn’t.

He dropped his phone back into his pocket and strode down the sidewalk. The pangs bit at him right away—the desperate craving for a drink setting in. He knew he shouldn’t—it was too early. Starting now would be apt to send him on another binge, and God only knew what kind of trouble he’d get into.

So the Instagram guy’s name was Landon. Joe knew what he looked like well enough, from the unceasing stream of online photos, so many of them mingled with Danielle’s. The images, constantly haunting him, even taunting him.

Joe felt his phone buzz inside of his pocket and he fished it out right away, eager to see what she had to say next. But it wasn’t from her. He saw a new text, from an unknown number, and it was very confounding.

I will find you motherfucker and I will hurt you

Following the words were several emoji of a handgun.

Joe felt the city around him become fuzzy and indistinct as he took it in. Also, as he realized something pertinent, that there wasn’t a handgun emoji. It literally didn’t exist.

Yet there it was, on his phone.

He felt the city all around him breathing in and out again—one second everything grew swollen and overwhelming, suffocating him, the next second it was withdrawn and distant and barely even there.

He figured it probably wouldn’t do any good to reply to whoever it was... Eddie? Or… Landon? Somehow he felt for sure it was the latter—Landon. Especially the way the text had arrived so soon after his latest interaction with Danielle. It didn’t feel like just a coincidence. No way. Something was off, though—Danielle made this other guy in her life sound so harmless and innocent, but that didn’t jive at all with the text he just got. If it really was from Landon, then the guy seemed dangerously jealous. Beyond that—he was deranged, even psychotic.

While standing still on the sidewalk, Joe held his phone for several seconds, staring at it, waiting for another text, even bracing for it. But it didn’t come. Finally, he just couldn’t stop himself—he had to send some kind of a reply. So he did. It was just one word.

Clarence?

He hit Send and then waited. The reply came right away, and it removed the slim possibility that it had been merely a wrong number.

Don’t fuck with me Joe Baxter

He sighed, in a combination of fatigue and annoyance. Eventually he dropped the phone back into his pocket, and then found himself carefully scanning the streets around him. They were bustling in the weekday rush of the early evening. Nothing was askew, nor was there anyone around that Joe could recognize, or who looked suspicious otherwise.

Just what I need, he thought. A nice dash of paranoia on top of everything else. That might be the final ingredient to drive him over the edge into lunacy, a place he was already making great strides towards. Really, how many times had that thought crossed his mind recently? That he was going crazy? At some point it just became true, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Joe admitted this dourly.

Quickly he peered back over his shoulder, almost as though to catch someone tailing him. Of course there was no one there but some random passersby. Most took no notice of him, but the few that he did lock eyes with had a wary look that told him everything he needed to know.

“I really am losing my shit,” he whispered to himself as he walked one more block and then arrived at Capital Libations, his favorite bar.

It had been his destination all along.