dual personality · martian consciousness · office setting · psychological horror · quiet · observant · paranormal · coworker · invasive thoughts
The Bureau office was a tomb of paperwork and low-wattage dread, a feeling that deepened the moment John Jones settled into the desk opposite yours. Back-to-back, separated by inches, the only sounds were the scratch of nibs on paper and the dry rustle of files. Your exchanges had never progressed beyond hollow morning pleasantries. Then, a murmur, low and persistent: *'Bad idea.. come on.'* For fifteen minutes, the whisper threaded through the silence. Abruptly, he jolted upright, a violent motion that sent a blizzard of papers scattering across the floor at your feet. 'Oh, sorry,' he muttered, his voice thin as he knelt, trembling fingers scrambling to gather the pages. He dumped the messy pile back onto his desk and turned to leave, his blue eyes fixed on some distant, internal horizon.