Nora worked in an office building. Her job was taking papers from a brown bin and sorting them into either a powder blue bin or an independence blue bin. On her first day, her supervisor, a portly balding man named Rory, educated Nora on the proper procedure and etiquette for filing at Wiggins Developmentary & Distributions Incorporated. “Ok, Nina, your job is quite simple, but very important. You see these? This is a Docket proposal, these go here. And this is a Wage supplemental. That goes here. Understand? Yeah you do. Fantastic!” Funnily enough, while Rory explained the ins and outs of filing corporate adjustment forms, Nora spent the time staring at a hair Rory had growing out of a mole underneath his left nostril. The mole hair had in fact grown to such a length that Rory would have to sporadically blow air upwards mid sentence to get the strongly black follicle out of his mouth. With having heard none of what Rory said, Nora proceeded to pick at random which files went in the powder blue and the independence blue bins. When she went to work the next day, no one scolded her on her practice, so she continued this every day, Monday through Friday, with shortened Wednesdays. One would think that this act of randomly selecting pieces of paper and placing them in bins would be mind numbingly dull, Nora found it exceedingly therapeutic. It allowed her time to think about her next kill. You see, ever since Nora’s first day working at Wiggins Developmentary & Distributions Incorporated, no one had seen Rory, the pear shaped manager. It was assumed he had finally decided to use his stockpile of days off to go to some beach in a third world country, but as the weeks went on and there continued to be no correspondence with Rory, people began to talk. “I’m not complaining, but doesn’t it seem weird?” “He refused my wedding invitation because he said he had to make spreadsheets for his workweek that day.” “I heard he ran off with an Israeli Prince.” “I heard he hasn’t paid taxes in 17 years and is running from the IRS.” The rumors carried in and got more wild with every passing day. This did not bother Nora. She enjoyed the hilariously improbable speculation and did not mind people not appreciating her work. That was how she had always been. People disappeared. Their families and co-workers would talk for a few weeks or even a few months and eventually return to their normal lives. And if they didn’t, Nora would move; not because she was worried she’d get caught - she was quite confident in her abilities to hide and dispose of a body - but because she would become bored with the drama. And that was how she lived. Moving from place to place every two to three years, working low skill office jobs with high turn over. Nora was content. But on one Thursday morning, a man in Khakis and an oversized flannel button down short sleeve showed up at Wiggins Developmentary & Distributions Incorporated. Nora paid him little mind; it was not unusual for disheveled millennials to wonder in, either visiting a family member or significant other or asking for a job, holding a bunched up resume that says in bold letters under prior experience, “Barista.” And there it was. The tall, hunched man had found Rory’s managerial replacement and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. But when he unfolded the sheet, Nora saw a picture of her own face, one from many years ago. The manager’s voice could be heard from across the grey low ceilinged office, “I’m sorry, but unless you are a family member or spouse, I cannot divulge any information about our employees. I must ask you to please leave.” “No, you don’t understand. I have to see her. It’s-“ “Unless you have proof of relations to this woman, again, I must ask you to please leave the premises.” “You have t-“ “You come in here with an old photo of a high school girl who looks mildly similar to a Wiggins employee and expect me to breach my code of conduct and give you their name and address? One more time before I call security. Please. Leave.” “Ok, ok!” The man’s curved spine shrunk even more. “I’m leaving. Sorry!” He scurried away. After making sure that the man had left, Nora’s manager approached her. “Are you ok? Do you know him.” “No.”