A pair of gothic, teeny boppers knocked at the office door before trying the door handle. Finding it unlocked, they let themselves quietly inside. They looked up in surprise to see someone sitting at the desk.
They were dressed up for the day in their good black clothes, like they were on their way to a funeral and had to make a quick stop in my office to pick up a condolence card. The slender one of the two wore a thick layer of black lipstick which created a black hole type of a situation on her face. The other one had a long black trench coat over black pants and a black blouse and black platform shoes.
“Hi girls, guess what? The forecaster is calling for sunshine and temps in the 70’s. It might be time to get your summer clothes out.”
“These are our summer clothes,” Trenchcoat responded and walked past me to the kitchenette area.
Trenchcoat poured day old coffee, turned sludge, into two Styrofoam cups. She spooned sugar into the cups until the liquid reached saturation and the sugar fell in a pile at the bottom. Still she spooned the sugar out of the plastic dish into the cups.
Small talk was not appreciated while she worked on emptying the sugar dish.
“We have good news,” Lipstick exclaimed in a flat voice.
I stared at the sugar dish as it was slowly emptied and listened to Lipstick at the same time.
“We will be moving soon,” Trenchcoat continued for her partner, looking up from the work at hand, with only slightly more animation.
“That is good news!” I said, beginning to think of who would replace the pair.
“We need bags and boxes.”
I turned to focus back on Trenchcoat and Lipstick shimmied past me as I stood, leaning on my desk.
Lipstick opened the refrigerator, in spite of the “Staff Only” sign.
“Where’s your creamer?” she asked from inside of the humming machine. “Oh well, I found some old cookies. Anyone going to eat these?”
She pulled a bag of old wafers from the back, pulled a cookie out and took a bite.
“Nah, these are stale,” she said. She flipped the trash open and tossed the bag inside, letting the lid come back down with a bang.
They slowly walked through the office, each with a coffee in hand. Lipstick picked up a stapler and Trenchcoat peered over a report on my desk. They adjusted the blinds and picked through the lost and found bin.
“We better start packing,” Trenchcoat said with her usual glumness.
Lipstick and Trenchcoat left with their coffee, most of the contents of the sugar dish and a coat from the lost and found. I saw what they took. Yet, I couldn’t help but to feel an uneasy certainty that something else was out of place and missing, taken by their sticky fingers, soon to travel to new places in one of their many black pockets.