Roy followed me to my cubicle, tripping on a trash can along the way. “You really should check out the Markland Web site, it’s awesome. Man oh man. It’s so cool.” He paused to blow a Nicorette bubble—pop! “And I went to the most kickin’ feast on Saturday. Debauchery everywhere, man.”

“Good morning, Roy. How are you?”

He cackled nervously and ran his hands through his mullet, leaving little feathers in their wake.

“Um. Um.” And then he was gone. Matthew motioned me to his cubicle.

“Janet just told me that Bob had a heart attack so she’d be in late. Don’t you think it’s strange she’s coming in at all?”

Matthew smiled at what should have been considered bad news: “She’d come in if she were dead.”

“Speaking of strange, who do you think is stranger—Roy or the judge?” I whispered, pointing to the secretaries’ den.

“That’s tough. But I’d have to go with Roy. It’s shocking that he has a wife, don’t you think?” Matthew asked.

Actually, Roy’s wife was shocking. Last week, I had answered the office phone after everyone had left for the day and it was her. When I offered to take a message, she barked: “That pussy better not have forgotten the cat food.” Then she hung up. I didn’t jot it down.

“Yes, Roy is an interesting bird. But don’t you think it’s annoying that he never asks us questions about us? He always just wants to talk about himself and that medieval stuff.”

“He’s got nothing, Sheila. If it makes him feel better talking about himself, I’m not going to rob him of that. Why do you even care?” It was a good question. Why was I upset that a medieval, pockmarked pussy-feeding “pussy” wasn’t asking me questions about me?

“Wait,” I said, noticing that the picture of half-naked Heidi had reappeared on Matthew’s desk. “I guess this means you guys are back on? Everything’s better now?”

Matthew shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, well kind of. Yes, we are. We’ve worked through our issues. She apologized for her behavior when my sister-in-law was in the hospital. She’s fine. She’s great.” He spoke rapidly, as if speed would bring truth to his words. “Yup, we’re all good now.”

Before I could respond to Matthew’s bizarre little rant, my phone rang for the first time all year. I rushed to answer, my heart racing. Getting a call in chambers was like getting a call in the middle of the night—it couldn’t be good news.

“Uh, this is Sheila Raj.” Heavy breathing on the other end. “Hello? Hello?” I asked, confused. Heavy breathing.