Euphoria

The room was a simple square, no windows, sickly green walls and felt like an overcrowded closet. There were two chairs with a tiny surface between them with a clock and fake plant atop it. Across from them was a desk that nearly filled the whole opposite wall, a computer chair and if even possible, a bulky computer that looked as clinical as the whole experience felt. The woman in the dark computer chair turned after typing for some moments and smiled what I’d imagine was an apologetic smile.

She was heavyset and delicately pretty with fair hair pulled away from her face into a slick bun. There was a thin spread of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her hazel eyes were soft. She clasped her hands atop a small notepad after straightening her blouse and crossing her legs, one over the other, as comfortably as her skirt would allow. I couldn’t ever remember her name, but I knew I could pick her out in a crowd.

“Can you tell me when you realized something was wrong with Olive, Thom?”

I scoffed. “Are you saying you guys missed the differences after you brainwashed her? Were you so eager to send her off, your killing machine, that you didn’t see–”

There was a change in her face that I involuntarily smirked at, the dip in her lips, the tension in her forehead that all cleared out before she cut me off.

“We acknowledge a mistake was made, to avoid this happening again, we would like to identify the direct causes.”

Clinical.

“When she came back for her first break.”

“And how was she different?” She wasn’t looking at me now, but scribbling notes I cared little about on her paper, glancing up only as I failed to fill the silence.

The first break was the last I saw of my closest friend.

She came home with a sad smile, but open arms to all of us she’d left behind. She had scars, I could tell, behind tortured eyes that she tried hard to hide with loud laughs and smiles. Her hands were rough, and she was slim, but more defined than I’d ever seen her. Her long hair had been cut to just below her shoulders and it bugged me because she had loved her hair. Her mannerisms were changed. She was strict with herself and closed off. She sat like she didn’t want to take up more space than needed and she seldom spoke unless spoken to. She offered no information about her experience and we were wary to ask.

Doc cleared her throat and I looked up from my hands. I guess I hadn’t said a word.

“At her welcome home party, she couldn’t handle the music, and she went to the bathroom a lot. I think in the beginning it was to get away from the noise… People she hadn’t seen in a while before she left that we’d invited, ah, she was nervous of them. She was jumpy the whole time. I had everyone clear out early because she broke down when we opened the champagne.”

“Broke down?”

“I’m sure you know what I mean.”

After a moment she nodded and I caught her eyes glance towards the clock before giving me another smile and standing.

“Thank you, Thom. It seems we’re just about out of time, will I see you next week?”

She asked me as though I had a choice. I stood. “Yeah, sure.”