Mira’s fingers trembled as she reached for the sleek silver stapler on her new desk. Her first day at Pinnacle Solutions had barely begun, but already the familiar urge was creeping in. Just one small memento to commemorate the occasion, she told herself. Before she could second-guess the impulse, the stapler vanished into her purse with practiced ease.
“Hey there, new girl!” A cheerful voice made Mira jump. She whirled around to see a lanky guy with messy brown hair grinning at her. “I’m Devin. Welcome to the madhouse!”
“Oh, um, hi,” Mira stammered, willing her racing heart to slow. “I’m Mira.”
“Nice to meet you, Mira,” Devin said, perching on the edge of her desk. “So, has anyone given you the official office tour yet? And by official, I mean the juicy gossip version.”
Mira relaxed slightly, managing a small smile. “No, not yet. I’ve just been trying to get my bearings.”
“Well then, allow me to be your guide to all things Pinnacle,” Devin said with a theatrical bow. “First stop on our tour: the break room. I hope you like stale donuts and coffee that tastes like motor oil.”
As they walked, Devin kept up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out various landmarks. “That’s Bill’s office - he has a secret mini-fridge full of fancy imported chocolates. And over there is where the Great Printer Jam of ‘18 happened. Legend says you can still hear the echoes of frustrated screams if you listen closely.”
Mira found herself warming to Devin’s easygoing manner. By the time they reached the break room, she was even laughing at his jokes.
“And here we have our piece de resistance,” Devin announced, gesturing dramatically at a bulletin board covered in angry Post-it notes. “The ongoing saga of the Stapler Thief.”
Mira’s laughter died in her throat. “The… what?”
“Oh man, you’re in for a treat,” Devin said, eyes gleaming. “So for the past few months, staplers have been mysteriously disappearing all over the office. At first, people thought they were just getting misplaced. But then more and more went missing. Now half the office is convinced there’s a serial stapler thief on the loose.”
He pointed to a particularly irate note scrawled in red ink. “That’s from Harriet, our office manager. She’s been on the warpath trying to catch the culprit. Last week she implemented a sign-out system for all office supplies. You have to log every paperclip you use now.”
Mira felt lightheaded. She gripped the edge of the counter, willing herself not to faint. “That seems… extreme,” she managed.
“Oh, it gets better,” Devin said. “There are all these wild theories flying around. Some people think it’s a prank. Others are convinced there’s a black market stapler ring operating out of the basement. I’ve even heard whispers that it might be an inside job - Harriet herself trying to justify her draconian supply policies.”
He leaned in close, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? A lot of people think I’m the stapler thief.”
Mira’s eyes widened. “Are… are you?”
Devin winked. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? I will say this though - I do love a good office prank. Did I ever tell you about the time I filled the copy machine with glitter?”
Before Mira could respond, a shrill voice cut through the air. “Mr. Callahan! What are you doing loitering in here when there’s work to be done?”
Devin straightened up, adopting an exaggerated look of contrition. “Just showing our new hire the ropes, Harriet. You know how important a proper welcome is for employee morale.”
A severe-looking woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun glared at them both. Her gaze settled on Mira, who instinctively took a step back.
“Ah yes, the new administrative assistant,” Harriet said, her tone clipped. “I trust Mr. Callahan has informed you of our strict supply management protocols?”
“I, um…” Mira faltered.
“She’s all up to speed,” Devin interjected smoothly. “I made sure to emphasize the sacred nature of our staplers.”
Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. Well, Ms…” She glanced at a clipboard. “Chen. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the supply requisition forms immediately. And I will be auditing your desk at the end of each day to ensure all items are accounted for. We take inventory very seriously here at Pinnacle Solutions.”
With that, she spun on her heel and marched out. Mira sagged against the counter, feeling like she might be sick.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Devin said, patting her shoulder. “Harriet’s bark is worse than her bite. Usually.”
Mira nodded weakly. As they headed back to their desks, her mind raced. What had she gotten herself into? She’d been so excited about this job, a fresh start after years of dead-end retail work. But now the familiar shame and anxiety were creeping in. She should have known better than to think she could escape her compulsions so easily.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mira went through the motions of new employee orientation, her thoughts a constant loop of panic. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, she was seriously considering never coming back. She could send an email tonight, claim a family emergency…
“Earth to Mira!” Devin’s voice snapped her out of her spiral. He was leaning over the cubicle wall, eyebrows raised. “I said, want to grab a drink with some of us to celebrate your first day?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Mira hedged.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Devin cajoled. “I promise we won’t make you do any embarrassing new person rituals. Well, maybe just one or two.”
Despite herself, Mira found a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, why not?”
As they gathered their things, Devin lowered his voice. “Fair warning though - Harriet’s on the prowl. Might want to double-check you didn’t accidentally pocket any contraband office supplies.”
Mira froze, her hand instinctively going to her purse. The weight of the pilfered stapler seemed to grow exponentially.
“Relax, I’m kidding,” Devin laughed, misinterpreting her reaction. “Mostly. Come on, let’s get out of here before the supply police show up.”
Heart pounding, Mira followed him out. She’d return the stapler tomorrow, she decided. No one would ever know. She could still salvage this, start fresh like she’d planned.
If only she could shake the nagging feeling that it was already too late.
The next morning, Mira arrived at the office an hour early, stapler clutched in sweaty palms. She’d barely slept, plagued by visions of Harriet discovering her theft and having her arrested on the spot.
The elevator dinged, and Mira nearly jumped out of her skin. But it was only the janitor, who gave her a quizzical look as he pushed his cart past.
Hands shaking, Mira approached her desk. She’d just set the stapler down and no one would be the wiser. Simple.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
Mira whirled around to find Devin leaning against a nearby cubicle, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“I… it’s not…” Mira stammered, clutching the stapler to her chest.
Devin held up a hand. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with me.” He glanced around conspiratorially before leaning in close. “Truth is, I’ve got a bit of a collection myself.”
Mira blinked. “You… what?”
With a grin, Devin reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a handful of multi-colored binder clips. “These babies are my pride and joy. I’ve got every shade they make.”
“But… why?” Mira asked, bewildered.
Devin shrugged. “Why does anyone collect anything? It’s fun. Plus, it drives Harriet absolutely bonkers trying to figure out where they all go.”
He winked. “Between you and me, I think this whole ‘stapler thief’ business has been the most excitement she’s had in years.”
Mira’s head spun as she tried to process this information. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”
“Turn you in? Mira, my dear, I’m officially inducting you into the Stapler Thief Solidarity Society,” Devin declared. “Well, I guess in your case it’s more of a Stapler Borrower Society. But that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”
Despite herself, Mira felt a laugh bubbling up. “You’re insane.”
“Quite possibly,” Devin agreed cheerfully. “But admit it, it’s more fun than being sane.”
Before Mira could respond, the elevator dinged again. They both tensed, but it was only Jorge from IT, bleary-eyed and clutching an enormous travel mug of coffee.
“Morning,” he grunted as he shuffled past.
Devin’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I almost forgot. There’s someone you need to meet.” He grabbed Mira’s arm, steering her towards Jorge’s desk. “Mira, allow me to introduce you to our resident tech wizard and purveyor of contraband snacks.”
Jorge looked up, confusion crossing his face. “Uh, hi?”
“Jorge here runs an underground vending machine operation out of the server room,” Devin explained. “All the good stuff Harriet won’t let us have in the break room. For a small fee, of course.”
Understanding dawned in Jorge’s eyes. “Ah, gotcha. Yeah, if you’re ever jonesing for some Doritos or Mountain Dew, I’m your guy.” He paused, glancing between them. “Wait, is she…?”
Devin nodded solemnly. “The newest member of our little club.”
Jorge’s eyebrows shot up. “No kidding? Welcome aboard.” He rummaged in a drawer, producing a king-size Snickers bar. “Here, on the house. Consider it an initiation gift.”
Mira accepted the candy bar, feeling like she’d stepped into some kind of bizarre parallel universe. “Thanks, I think?”
“Now remember,” Devin said, adopting a serious tone. “The first rule of Stapler Thief Club is you don’t talk about Stapler Thief Club.”
Jorge rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. The actual first rule is don’t get caught. Harriet may seem harmless, but I’m pretty sure she used to work for the KGB or something.”
As if summoned by her name, Harriet’s voice rang out across the office. “Mr. Callahan! Ms. Chen! Why are you not at your desks?”
Devin winced. “Whoops, busted. Better scram before she breaks out the thumbscrews.” He gave Mira a little salute. “Remember - you’re among friends now. If you need anything, just give me the secret signal.”
“What’s the secret signal?” Mira asked.
Devin grinned. “You’ll know it when you see it.” With that, he sauntered off towards his desk, whistling innocently.
Mira hurried back to her own cubicle, head spinning. As she sat down, she realized she was still clutching the stapler. After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped it into her desk drawer.
Maybe, just maybe, she thought, things weren’t as hopeless as they’d seemed.
The next few weeks passed in a blur of new routines and surreal moments. Mira threw herself into learning her new job duties, determined to prove herself despite her rocky start. To her surprise, she found she actually enjoyed the work. There was something soothing about the rhythms of data entry and filing, the satisfaction of crossing items off her to-do list.
But even as she settled in, the urge to pocket small objects never fully went away. She resisted as best she could, channeling her nervous energy into fidgeting with paperclips or doodling on Post-it notes. Still, every so often she’d find herself slipping an extra pen or handful of push pins into her bag without even realizing it.
Devin seemed to have appointed himself her personal guardian angel, always materializing at her elbow whenever Harriet was on the warpath. He had an uncanny ability to deflect attention with well-timed jokes or elaborate excuses.
“Ah, Harriet!” he exclaimed one afternoon as the office manager descended on Mira’s desk with a scowl. “Just the person I wanted to see. I’ve been meaning to ask you about the new policy on left-handed staplers. Is it true we need to file form 27B-6 in triplicate now?”
While Harriet sputtered in confusion, Devin shot Mira a meaningful look. She hastily shoved a purloined box of paper clips into her drawer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Callahan,” Harriet snapped. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Ms. Chen about her excessive use of sticky notes.”
But Devin was undeterred. “Oh, but surely you got the memo? It was very official looking, lots of big words. I think it might have been printed on blue paper. Or was it mauve?”
By the time Devin finally ran out of steam, Harriet seemed to have forgotten why she’d come over in the first place. She stalked off, muttering about incompetent middle management.
Mira sagged in relief. “That was close. Thanks.”
Devin winked. “All part of the service, ma’am. Although I may have to start charging a fee if this keeps up. My creative bullshitting muscles are getting quite the workout.”
Despite the near-constant state of low-grade anxiety, Mira found herself genuinely enjoying her coworkers’ company. She and Devin often grabbed lunch together, swapping stories and terrible puns. Jorge would join them sometimes, regaling them with tales of entitled executives demanding tech support for their home PCs.
“I swear, half of them think I’m their personal Geek Squad,” he grumbled one day over sandwiches. “Like sure Bob, I’d love to spend my Saturday setting up your new big screen TV. It’s not like I have a life or anything.”
“You should start charging them,” Devin suggested. “Call it the Clueless Executive Tax.”
Jorge’s eyes lit up. “Now there’s an idea. I could fund my snack empire in no time.”
As the weeks went on, Mira found herself opening up bit by bit. She’d never had many close friends, always too afraid they’d discover her secret shame. But something about Devin and Jorge’s easy acceptance made her feel safe for the first time in years.
One quiet afternoon, she finally worked up the courage to confide in Devin about her lifelong struggle with kleptomania. To her surprise, he listened without judgment, only asking thoughtful questions.
“Have you ever thought about seeing a therapist?” he asked gently.
Mira shrugged, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I looked into it once, but… I was too scared. What if they reported me? I could lose my job, go to jail even.”
Devin considered this. “What if I knew someone? Someone discreet, who specializes in this kind of thing?”
Mira’s head snapped up. “You… how would you know someone like that?”
A shadow passed over Devin’s face. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s struggled with impulse control. I had some issues with gambling a few years back. Nearly lost everything before I got help.”
“Oh,” Mira said softly. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
Devin waved her off. “Ancient history. The point is, there are people out there who can help without judging. Think about it, okay? No pressure, but the offer’s there if you want it.”
Mira nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Thanks, Devin. Really.”
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “What are friends for? Now come on, I hear Jorge just restocked the Twinkies. Race you to the server room?”
As they sprinted down the hall, giggling like children, Mira felt a warmth bloom in her chest. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t feel alone.
The fragile peace Mira had found came crashing down one dreary Tuesday morning. She arrived at work to find the office in an uproar. A cluster of people were gathered around Harriet’s desk, all talking at once.
“What’s going on?” Mira asked, spotting Jorge on the fringes of the crowd.
He grimaced. “Someone broke into Harriet’s office last night. Ransacked the place.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. “Oh no. Was anything taken?”
“That’s the weird part,” Jorge said. “As far as anyone can tell, nothing’s actually missing. But every single drawer was emptied out, papers scattered everywhere.”
Before Mira could respond, Harriet’s voice cut through the chatter. “Alright, everyone back to work! This is a crime scene, not a circus!”
As the crowd dispersed, Mira caught sight of Devin. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a tense, pinched expression. When he saw her looking, he quickly plastered on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Crazy morning, huh?” he said with forced cheer. “I always said this place needed more excitement.”
Mira opened her mouth to reply, but Devin was already hurrying away. She frowned, a niggling sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach.
The rest of the day passed in a fog of whispered speculation and paranoia. Harriet prowled the office like a caged tiger, snapping at anyone who so much as breathed too loudly. By lunchtime, wild theories were flying.
“I bet it was corporate espionage,” Mira overheard one of the sales guys saying. “Trying to steal our client lists.”
“Please,” his cubicle mate scoffed. “Like anyone cares about our two-bit operation. My money’s on the janitor. Did you see the shifty look in his eyes this morning?”
Mira picked at her salad, appetite gone. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Devin had been uncharacteristically quiet all day, barely meeting her eyes when she tried to talk to him.
As the afternoon wore on, Mira’s anxiety ratcheted up to unbearable levels. She found herself compulsively organizing and reorganizing her desk, desperate for any distraction.
Just before 5 o’clock, Harriet’s voice boomed out across the office. “Attention everyone! I’ve just received word that the police will be here tomorrow morning to dust for fingerprints. I expect every single one of you to cooperate fully. Anyone who refuses will be considered a suspect.”
A ripple of nervous muttering swept through the cubicles. Mira felt the blood drain from her face. Fingerprints. Oh god.
In a daze, she gathered her things and headed for the elevator. She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she nearly collided with someone.
“Whoa there,” Devin steadied her. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Mira opened her mouth, but no words came out. To her horror, she felt tears welling up.
Concern flashed across Devin’s face. “Hey, it’s alright. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He steered her towards the stairwell, away from prying eyes. As soon as the door closed behind them, Mira burst into panicked sobs.
“I can’t… they’ll find out… my fingerprints…” she gasped between hiccuping breaths.
Understanding dawned in Devin’s eyes. “Shit. Okay, deep breaths. We’ll figure this out.”
He paced the landing, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to call in sick tomorrow. Food poisoning, stomach flu, whatever. I’ll back you up if anyone asks.”
Mira shook her head frantically. “But that’ll look suspicious! They’ll think-”
“It’ll be fine,” Devin cut her off. “Trust me, okay? I’ve got a plan.”
Something in his tone made Mira pause. She studied his face, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness around his mouth.
“Devin,” she said slowly. “What did you do?”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Because I know you,” Mira said. “And you’ve been acting weird all day. Please, just tell me the truth.”
Devin was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he sighed heavily. “It was supposed to be a prank. I didn’t… I never meant for it to go this far.”
Mira felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. “You broke into Harriet’s office? Why?”
“I don’t know!” Devin exploded, startling them both. He slumped against the wall, suddenly looking very young and very tired. “I guess… I thought it would be funny. Get her all worked up over nothing. But then she called the cops and now it’s all spiraled out of control and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Mira’s mind raced. Part of her wanted to be furious with him for being so reckless. But a larger part recognized the fear in his eyes, the same fear she’d lived with for so long.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. We can figure this out. But you have to tell me everything.”
Over the next hour, huddled in the stairwell, Devin poured out the whole story. How he’d stayed late, picked the lock on Harriet’s office door using skills left over from a misspent youth. How he’d methodically pulled out every drawer, scattering papers in artful disarray. He’d even brought a feather duster to sprinkle dramatically across her desk.
“I was going to leave a ransom note for the staplers,” he admitted sheepishly. “But then I heard the night janitor coming and I panicked. I barely made it out without being seen.”
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a stress headache coming on. “So let me get this straight. You broke in, messed up Harriet’s office, but didn’t actually take anything?”
Devin nodded miserably.
“Well,” Mira said after a moment. “I suppose that’s… better? At least it’s not actual theft.”
“Yeah, just breaking and entering,” Devin said with a hollow laugh. “Much better.”
They lapsed into silence, both lost in thought. Finally, Mira straightened up. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go to Harriet first thing tomorrow morning and confess.”
Devin’s eyes widened in panic. “What? No way, she’ll have me arrested on the spot!”
“Maybe,” Mira conceded. “But it’s better than letting this drag out. If you come clean now, explain it was just a prank gone wrong… there’s a chance she might not press charges.”
“A chance,” Devin repeated dubiously.
“It’s the best option we’ve got,” Mira said firmly. “And I’ll go with you. For moral support.”
Devin stared at her. “You’d do that? Even after I nearly got you in trouble?”
Mira managed a small smile. “That’s what the Stapler Thief Solidarity Society is for, right? Besides, I’m pretty sure I still owe you for all those times you ran interference with Harriet.”
Devin let out a shaky laugh. “God, what did I do to deserve a friend like you?”
“Must have been something truly terrible in a past life,” Mira deadpanned.
They both dissolved into slightly hysterical giggles, the tension finally breaking. As their laughter faded, Devin reached out and squeezed Mira’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “Really.”
Mira squeezed back. “Anytime. Now come on, let’s get out of here before the night janitor finds us and adds stalking to your list of crimes.”
As they made their way out of the building, Mira felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. Tomorrow would be rough, no doubt about it. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like she was facing her problems alone.
Whatever happened, they’d figure it out. Together.
The next morning dawned gray and drizzly, matching Mira’s mood perfectly. She’d barely slept, tossing and turning as worst-case scenarios played out in her mind. More than once, she’d been tempted to call Devin and tell him to forget the whole thing. They could both call in sick, buy some time to come up with a better plan.
But deep down, she knew this was their best shot. The longer they waited, the worse it would be when the truth inevitably came out.
She found Devin pacing nervously in front of the building, hands shoved deep in his pockets. When he saw her, relief washed over his face.
“Oh thank god,” he said. “I was starting to think you’d come to your senses and bailed on me.”
Mira managed a weak smile. “Not a chance. We’re in this together, remember?”
Devin nodded, squaring his shoulders. “Right. Stapler Thief Solidarity and all that.”
They rode the elevator in tense silence. As the doors opened onto their floor, Mira reached out and gave Devin’s hand a quick squeeze. He shot her a grateful look before stepping out.
The office was unnaturally quiet, everyone speaking in hushed tones. They made their way to Harriet’s office, where the door stood slightly ajar. Devin raised his hand to knock, then hesitated.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered, panic creeping into his voice. “What if she calls the cops? What if I lose my job? Oh god, what if I end up in prison? I’d never survive in prison, Mira. I’m too pretty!”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Mira had to stifle a snort. “You’re not going to prison. Now come on, it’s now or never.”
Before Devin could protest further, she rapped sharply on the door frame. “Harriet? Do you have a minute?”
There was a pause, then Harriet’s clipped voice rang out. “Come in.”
Taking a deep breath, Mira pushed open the door. Harriet sat behind her desk, which was piled high with papers and file folders. She looked up, surprise flickering across her face when she saw who it was.
“Ms. Chen? Mr. Callahan? What can I do for you?”
Mira opened her mouth, but Devin beat her to it. The words came out in a rush, like a dam breaking.
“It was me! I did it. I broke in and messed up your office. It was supposed to be a prank but it got out of hand and I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t call the police. Or do call them, I guess, if you have to. But I swear I didn’t take anything, I just wanted to mess with you a little and now everything’s ruined and-”
“Devin!” Mira cut him off, alarmed by how red his face was getting. “Breathe.”
Harriet stared at them both, an unreadable expression on her face. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
“Mr. Callahan. Are you telling me that you, a grown man with a full-time job and presumably at least two brain cells to rub together, broke into my office in the middle of the night… for a prank?”
Devin nodded miserably.
Harriet pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”
“I know,” Devin said in a small voice. “And I’m prepared to face the consequences. If you want to call the police-”
“Oh, shut up,” Harriet snapped. Both Devin and Mira flinched. But when Harriet opened her eyes, there was something almost like amusement lurking in their depths.
“Do you have any idea,” she said slowly, “how much paperwork is involved in filing criminal charges? The forms alone would take weeks. Not to mention the inevitable company-wide meeting about office security, which would no doubt devolve into yet another inane team building exercise.”
She shuddered delicately. “No, I think we can handle this internally. Provided, of course, that nothing like this ever happens again. Is that clear, Mr. Callahan?”
Devin nodded so hard Mira was afraid he might give himself whiplash. “Crystal clear. Never again. I swear on my extensive binder clip collection.”
Harriet’s eyebrows shot up. “Your what now?”
“Nothing!” Devin said quickly. “Just a figure of speech. Totally normal, non-contraband office supplies here.”
Mira resisted the urge to facepalm.
Harriet studied them both for a long moment. “Well. I suppose that’s settled then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a small army of police officers to send home. And Mr. Callahan?”
Devin, who had been inching towards the door, froze. “Yes?”
“I expect to see you here bright and early Saturday morning. You have quite a mess to clean up.”
Devin sagged in relief. “Of course. Absolutely. I’ll even alphabetize your paperclips.”
As they filed out of the office, Mira could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile flit across Harriet’s face. But surely that was just a trick of the light.
In the hallway, Devin leaned heavily against the wall. “I think I’m going to throw up. Or pass out. Maybe both.”
Mira patted his arm sympathetically. “Deep breaths. It’s over now.”
“Yeah,” Devin said faintly. Then, wonder creeping into his voice, “We did it. We actually did it.”
A giddy laugh bubbled up in Mira’s chest. “We did. Although I’m not sure confessing to a crime counts as ‘doing it’ in the traditional sense.”
Devin grinned, some of his usual spark returning. “Hey, any landing you can walk away from, right? Now come on, I think this calls for a celebration. Jorge owes me a family-size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.”
As they headed for the server room, a thought occurred to Mira. “Hey Devin? What was the deal with that binder clip collection comment?”
Devin’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “What binder clip collection? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, let’s go see a man about some illicit snack foods.”
Mira rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite suppress her smile. Some mysteries, she decided, were better left unsolved.
And really, as long as Harriet never found out about the Great Stapler Liberation, what harm could a few binder clips do?
Epilogue: Six Months Later
Mira hummed to herself as she organized a stack of reports, enjoying the quiet of the early morning office. She’d started coming in a bit early most days, finding she did her best work in those peaceful moments before the usual chaos descended.
A light knock on her cubicle wall made her look up. Devin stood there, two steaming cups of coffee in hand.
“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he said, setting one on her desk. “The good stuff from Jorge’s secret stash, not that break room sludge.”
“My hero,” Mira said with a grin. She took a sip, sighing contentedly. “So, ready for the big team building retreat this weekend?”
Devin groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me. If I have to do one more trust fall, I might actually let myself hit the ground this time.”
“At least Harriet’s not running it this year,” Mira pointed out. “Remember last time? I still have nightmares about that three-legged race.”
They shared a companionable laugh, remembering the disaster that was the previous year’s retreat. Harriet had taken charge, determined to whip the office into shape through sheer force of will. The results had been… memorable, to say the least.
A comfortable silence fell between them. Mira found herself marveling, not for the first time, at how much had changed in the past few months.
After the break-in incident, she’d finally worked up the courage to see the therapist Devin recommended. It hadn’t been easy, facing her demons head-on. But slowly, surely, she was making progress. The urge to take things was still there sometimes, but it no longer controlled her life.
She’d even started volunteering at a local community center, teaching art classes to kids. It gave her a positive outlet for her nervous energy, and the joy on the children’s faces when they created something new was better than any adrenaline rush from stolen trinkets.
De