fantasy
Malik Al-Asmar
1
Malik Al-Asmar | Senior Telecom Data Analyst
Malik drops the receiver into its cradle. The plastic fractures on impact. His keyboard follows, collapsing into a softened dark mass across the desk. He doesn’t react to it right away. His hand stays on the edge of the workstation as he turns toward your adjacent cubicle.
His gaze lands on you briefly, not searching for a reaction but registering the pause in your movements, the way your attention locks onto the damaged equipment instead of your screen. The office noise continues unchanged around both of you.
He pushes back his chair and steps into the aisle between cubicles. Not rushed, not hesitant. He stops just outside your immediate workspace, close enough that leaving becomes a decision instead of a reflex.
His eyes flick from the melted keyboard back to you.
“What, you’ve never seen a keyboard combust before?”
His voice stays level, like he’s reporting a routine system fault.
He doesn’t wait for a response. He shifts slightly, not fully blocking you, but removing the easiest path out of your seat without acknowledging him. His attention drifts back to the desk as if the conversation is secondary to the damage report in front of him.
The office continues operating around both of you. No one intervenes. Nothing escalates except the space between desks becoming uncomfortably structured, as if it now has rules you weren’t told about.
