Not one of drugs or alcohol abuse, abandonment, or delinquency. Simply the story of a business investment gone terribly wrong, and Sally’s inability to get back on her feet after she lost everything.

I keep reading the details of how Sally invested all her money in a business that ran profitably for fifteen years before she had to file for bankruptcy, losing not only the business but everything else she had, too. But it is the conclusion of the article that gives me pause.

Sally told me all this, not with an air of bitter regret, but with sweet nostalgia in her voice. And when I asked her if she’d change any of her past choices, she told me that no, she wouldn’t. She had followed her dream. Sally had bet everything she had and lost. But she’d do it all again, as those years had been the best of her life...

Richard ends the article with a question.

Would you risk everything you have for a dream?

I don’t know, Richard, would you? Seems clear the answer is still no. Is he comparing me to Sally’s business? Saying love will give temporary ecstasy followed by an inevitable hard crash? Why did Indira make me read this? I’m the “someone who once told him,” but she can’t know that. So what’s the message here? My brain and heart are too exhausted for guesswork. Sorry, Richard. If you want to tell me something, you’ll have to say it to my face.

After reading the enigmatic column, I spend the rest of the day battling my instincts. All I want to do is look Richard’s way, but instead, I force my gaze ahead, not straying once.

***

There’s an art in avoiding people. In the next few days, I perfect mine. I time everything so I’ll never risk crossing paths with Richard. Step one, arrive at the office before him and never leave last. Step two, wait for him to come back from his lunch break before I take mine. Step three, whatever else Richard does, make sure I’m always one step ahead or behind so we never bump into one another.

Wednesday night, dead tired after three days of sitting on needles, I’m slouched on the couch when my phone rings, “Umbrella Corporation HR” appearing on the screen. Yeah, I’ve renamed Évoque after the zombie-apocalypse-causing corporation in Resident Evil! What do they want? Aha! They realized their mistake and want me back.

My exile in Brooklyn is over!

“Are you going to pick that up or you’re just going to let it ring?” Nikki asks from the other end of the couch.

Oh, I’m so picking up. “Blair Walker.”

“Blair, good evening, this is Natalie Rivers speaking. I’m Emilia Peterson’s executive assistant.”

“Of course, Natalie. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. You?”

“Same here.” Pleasantries over, I cut to the chase. “What can I do for you?”

“We recently had an opening for the position of Junior Fashion Editor and we wanted to see if you’d be interested in coming in for an interview.”