It's hard to sit at work with a body rotting at home. You had always heard stories in the news. People with terrible secrets, secrets that had gone on for years. Secrets sheltered while maintaining a superficially normal life. Hoarders leaving pets and family members to rot under piles of yellowed newspaper, serial killer family men with bones in the back garden, parents of secret children left to fester. How had these people gone about their daily life? Plastered a smile on their faces knowing what nightmares waited for them at home? Had they laughed genuinely in all that time? Had they fostered a sense of life of auto pilot so advanced nothing could disrupt its flow? Unfortunately, you couldn't wonder anymore. You were in on the secret. Three desks faced each other horse-shoe style in the shipping department of the warehouse. You and your coworkers hid behind your computer screens all day. You felt grateful for that, slouching behind your monitor, not having to worry about what expression you wore on your face. It wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. Laughing and small talking politely, a smile that had never reached your eyes in all the years you'd worked there not giving anything away today. Why hadn't she just done as you said?