I was asked to leave today. Only this time, for good.

I crept into the ladies’ washroom when I was certain it was empty, skirted into one of the empty stalls, and slid off the pair of underwear I wore to work today. It was a dark cherry color, the edges frilled with lace as finely woven as a spider’s web.

When I had fully removed the underwear, wrenching it off from around my shoes, I wrapped the garment around the toilet seat’s handlebar. I stepped back, admiring the finesse of my craftsmanship. The underwear dangled there obscenely as if it were human viscera on display – a juiceless organ or a dried-out intestine to be marveled at.

After I was satisfied with my work, I crawled out of the empty stall. But just as I was leaving, one of the other secretaries greeted me at the washroom door. She made a friendly comment, excusing herself as she almost bumped into me. Then, I watched her eyes drift to the pair of undergarments hanging from the handlebar in the empty stall.

She looked at me strangely, as if searching me for an explanation. When she could find none, she made her way into one of the other stalls and shut the door.

I sneaked back to my desk and waited for the moment when it would happen – the moment when I would be once again asked to visit my superior’s office. Only this time, I decided I would accept my fate with the same dignity of a virgin martyr being led to public execution.

Finally, the time came.

“She’d like to see you in her office,” one of the other younger secretaries told me while keeping their distance, as if I carried some infectious disease and they might be dismissed as well if they came too close to me.

The meeting was brief. Just as I had expected. A simple, “You’re dismissed” and a few papers to sign.

I didn’t feel anything when I was asked to pack my things. I thought I might feel a pinch in the center of my chest, a faucet leaking behind my eyes. But, no. Nothing.

It’s not that I felt empty. I think all of us feel empty most of the time and we merely pretend to fill the vacuum with laughter, crying, apologies – anything to make us feel human.

I think I felt like what an astronaut feels like when they hurdle toward earth in a tiny prison chamber, flames eating away at their vessel as they enter our atmosphere.

There’s a reason objects burn up when they fall to earth like gruesome angels – a reason other than the obvious one. Asteroids the size of armored cars narrow to mere pebbles in a matter of seconds. It’s because the planet is a carnivore and just wants to be fed. People want that as well. People like to eat other people.