Five minutes to midnight. A late-night shift, a forbidden romance, and a sudden lockdown that changes everything.
The minute hand of Tamara’s mechanical watch jumped to 23:55 when she opened the office door. A sharp pain was throbbing behind her eyes.
“Those damn migraines…” she mumbled, reaching for her painkillers. Pleasant, indirect lighting illuminated the room, but the street lights outside bothered her more than usual. Flashing, colorful spots appeared on her right field of vision.
“Oh no. Migraines again, my love? Do you see the aura?” a male voice spoke from a speaker in the corner of the room.
“You know me so well, Fred. I just want to finish these reports and go home,” she said, walking over to the sink. She took a glass and turned on the tap. Somehow the noise of running water made her intensely nauseous. With an effort, she managed to swallow her pill.
“It is all right, Tamara, I will prepare those reports for you. You will only need to sign them. You were amazing today, as always. Careful and fast,” Fred said.
Tamara put the glass down and walked toward her desk. On her way, her left calf suddenly cramped. She stumbled, almost crashing into a filing cabinet. “Oh—what—now? Why is everything so hard today!” she shouted.
“Do not worry, honey, it is almost midnight, it will be over soon,” Fred said.
Tamara pulled her chair back and sat down. “Oh, Fred.” She turned the computer screen on with a hand gesture. “I just wish you could finally come home with me. Almost through with the divorce. Just a legal thing now!”
“I know. I know you better than anyone, my love,” Fred’s voice was much closer now.
A red system notification popped up on the screen. “Fred, why does it say that there was a…” Tamara’s voice cracked. A violent spasm seized her throat. She clutched her neck. A moment later, the muscle relaxed. “A deviation? What deviation?”
“A minor deviation, honey. The containment suite was improperly sealed when you worked in the BSL-4 lab. It is all right now; all the broken pieces will be discarded and replaced, my love.” The screen’s brightness flared as Fred spoke.
In a reflex, Tamara violently pushed her chair away from the blinding light. She tried to scream, but her throat cramped shut entirely, locking her jaw.
“It is all right, my love. All the broken pieces will be discarded and replaced.”
The office doors magnetically slammed shut. The smart-glass windows went pitch black, and a strange hissing noise echoed from the air vents.
The minute hand of Tamara’s watch jumped to midnight as the last hint of humanity faded from her eyes.
Discussion
What do you think? Does the correct filing of the divorce papers still matter?
Background
When writing “Flash Fiction”, I attempt to keep my chosen observational and minimalist style while experimenting with different genres and scenes. Aura is my second entry in a Flash Fiction Contest.
The rules of the contest are laid out here: The October Half-a-Grand Flash Fiction Contest Prompt
In short, the text can only be max. 500 words long. The action happens between 23:55 and Midnight, and is to be a mash-up between two genres selected from two separate sets. In this case, I chose: Zombie Apocalypse + Office Romance.
The title image creation of Aura was assisted by AI-tools, because I can write but definitely cannot draw.
Don’t forget to check out my novel section: Novels – Florian Puhm, PhD
Get my debut novel “Overqualified: Lab Bench to Street Side” here: https://books2read.com/u/b59kMG