Chapter 22: Goodnight, El
TATE ASSOCIATION – 8:30 AM – THURSDAY
El walked toward the cubicles, Nev's words still echoing in his head.
Stop looking for her.
Stop running.
Stop chasing.
He turned the corner—and nearly walked straight into Mira.
She was standing outside his cubicle.
Two coffee cups in her hands. Steam rising from both.
Her hair was slightly out of place today. Just a strand. Barely noticeable. But El noticed.
She saw him. Straightened immediately. Professional mask sliding into place.
But not fast enough.
"El." Her voice was calm. Controlled.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Ma'am."
She held out one of the cups.
"Demi mentioned you might need this."
El took it. Real coffee. Not Whimsy. Not instant. Real.
"Thank you."
She nodded. Didn't leave.
Demi materialized from nowhere.
"SEE? SOFT VOICE. I TOLD YOU."
Mira's eyes flicked toward him. That sharp, cutting gaze that usually made interns cry.
Demi didn't flinch. Just grinned.
"I'm supportive. That's my brand."
Mira's expression didn't change. But something in her eyes shifted. Almost—almost—amused.
"You have work to do, Demi."
"I do. Very important work. Life-changing work. Spreadsheets and all."
"Then do it."
"I'm going. Right now. This instant." He pointed at El.
"But I'm watching. For science."
He disappeared.
Mira watched him go. Then looked back at El.
"He's... something."
"He's Demi."
"That's not an explanation."
"It's the only one that exists."
A pause. Then—Mira almost smiled. Almost.
"How are you feeling? Demi mentioned you had a rough morning."
El looked at his coffee. "I'm fine."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Mira studied him. That long, assessing look. The one that made him feel like she was reading a report he hadn't finished writing.
"You're a terrible liar."
El's eyebrow twitched. "I'm an excellent liar."
"You're an excellent marketer. There's a difference."
Before he could respond, a voice cut through the office.
"EL! EL, I NEED YOU. THE PRINTER. IT'S—IT'S DOING SOMETHING. I DON'T KNOW WHAT. IT'S MAKING NOISES. NOISES THAT AREN'T NORMAL."
Mark appeared at the end of the hall, wild-eyed, waving his arms.
"It's BEEPING, El. BEEPING. AND IT WON'T STOP."
Mira sighed. "Mark—"
"I KNOW, I KNOW, I'M A COORDINATOR, NOT AN ASSISTANT. BUT THE PRINTER DOESN'T CARE ABOUT JOB DESCRIPTIONS. THE PRINTER IS CHAOS. PURE CHAOS."
El looked at Mira. "I should—"
She waved a hand.
"Go. Save the printer. Save Mark. Save the office from his existential spiral."
El almost smiled. Almost.
He walked toward Mark.
Behind him, Mira's voice: "El?"
He turned.
She was still standing there. Coffee in hand. That strand of hair still out of place.
"Your reports are due tomorrow."
"I know."
"Don't be late."
A pause.
"That's all."
She walked away.
El watched her go.
Demi appeared instantly.
"DID YOU SEE THAT. SHE BROUGHT YOU COFFEE. SHE WAITED. SHE STAYED. THAT'S NOT PROFESSIONAL. THAT'S—"
"Romantic. I know. You've said."
"BECAUSE IT'S TRUE."
From across the way, Mark's voice.
"EL. THE PRINTER. IT'S STARTING TO SMOKE. PLEASE."
---
BREAK ROOM – 12:30 PM
El stood by the window, coffee gone, mind still spinning.
Stop looking for her.
When you stop running, you'll find her.
When you stop chasing, you'll catch her.
The door opened.
Hope walked in, travel mug in hand. Covered in new stickers."MAKE TODAY COUNT," "SMALL VICTORIES," a tiny smiling cactus.
"Oh! El! Hi!" She beamed.
"You saved the printer. Mark told everyone. He's calling you 'The Printer Whisperer' now."
El's eyebrow twitched.
"That's not—"
"It's official. I heard Janet from Accounting say it. She never says anything nice about anyone. It's basically a promotion."
She grabbed her lunch from the fridge, still chattering.
"Demi said you're working on the Q3 projections. I looked at the template. It's really detailed. Like, really detailed. Did you make it?"
El nodded.
Hope's eyes widened.
"That's incredible. I took a stats class in university and I cried three times. The professor had to talk to me after class. It was very embarrassing."
"It gets easier."
"That's what everyone says. I'm still waiting."
She sat across from him.
"Also, Nev said something weird to me this morning."
El's pulse quickened.
"What did he say?"
"He said—"
Hope scrunched her face, trying to remember.
"He said, 'Some people spend their whole lives looking for something that's already there.' And then he just... walked away."
El's chest tightened.
"That's weird, right?"
Hope asked.
"That's not a normal morning greeting. 'Hello' is normal. 'How are you' is normal. 'Some people spend their whole lives looking for something that's already there' is NOT normal."
She took a sip of her tea.
"Do you think he's secretly a philosopher? Or maybe a spy? Demi thinks he's a spy. I think he's just mysterious. It's probably the glasses."
El didn't respond.
He was thinking about Nev's words. About Tuesday. About the lost day.
Something that's already there.
Something I'm not seeing.
Something I've been looking past.
Hope was still talking.
"—and Théo said he saw Nev staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. Just... staring. At the ceiling. Not doing anything. Just standing there. Théo almost called security."
El blinked.
"Théo almost called security?"
"Théo almost calls security every day. It's his default setting." Hope stood.
"Anyway. I should go. I have a meeting with Mr. Hendricks."
El winced. "Good luck."
"I'm going to need it." She paused at the door.
"Hey, El?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't know what's going on with you. But whatever it is—" She smiled.
"You've got this."
She left.
El stared at the door.
Some people spend their whole lives looking for something that's already there.
Stop looking for her.
When you stop running, you'll find her.
His phone buzzed.
DEMI: MARK WANTS TO THANK YOU FOR THE PRINTER. HE'S WRITING A SPEECH. I'M NOT JOKING. HE'S BEEN PRACTICING IN THE BREAK ROOM. JANET FROM ACCOUNTING WALKED IN. SHE THINKS HE'S LOST IT.
DEMI: ALSO ALSO ALSO MIRA ASKED ME TO ASK YOU IF YOU'RE EATING LUNCH. HER WORDS: "IS EL EATING LUNCH?" IN THE SOFT VOICE, EL. AGAIN.
DEMI: I TOLD HER YOU WERE. YOU'RE WELCOME.
El stared at the message.
Soft voice.
Coffee.
Mira.
Normal things.
Things that don't involve time loops and dying gardens and lost Tuesdays.
He typed back:
EL: You're impossible.
DEMI: I'M ACCURATE. THERE'S A DIFFERENCE.
DEMI: ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO I'M NOT SAYING MIRA HAS A CRUSH ON YOU, BUT I AM DEFINITELY SAYING MIRA HAS A CRUSH ON YOU.
DEMI: OKAY THAT'S ALL. FOR NOW. I'LL TEXT YOU AGAIN IN TEN MINUTES.
El pocketed his phone.
He looked out the window. At the city. At the sky. At nothing.
Stop looking for her.
When you stop running, you'll find her.
When you stop chasing, you'll catch her.
He didn't understand.
But he was starting to think—maybe that was the point.
---
EL'S CUBICLE – 4:45 PM
El sat at his desk. Q3 projections done. Saved in three locations. Pens aligned. Papers stacked.
Normal things.
Demi appeared. Didn't vault. Just walked. That was unusual.
"Hey."
El looked up.
Demi leaned against the cubicle wall. No chips. No jokes. Just... there.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You've been saying 'I'm fine' for like a week. That's not fine."
El didn't respond.
Demi was quiet for a moment. Then.
"I know I don't believe you. About the loops. About the dream girl. About all of it."
El's chest tightened.
"But that doesn't mean I'm not here."
Demi's voice was softer now.
"You're my best friend, El. If you're going through something—whatever it is—I'm here. Even if I don't understand it."
El looked at him. This loud, chaotic, impossible person who never stopped showing up.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Demi grinned.
"Don't thank me. Thank me after I save you from your own emotional constipation."
He pushed off the wall.
"Now come on. Let's go home. I need snacks. And you need sleep. Real sleep. Not 'I'm fine' sleep."
El stood. Grabbed his bag.
They walked to the elevator together.
The doors opened.
Mira was inside.
She looked at them. Her expression was neutral. Professional. But her eyes lingered on El for a moment longer than necessary.
"Good work on the reports, El. They're ahead of schedule."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
She nodded. Looked at Demi.
"Yours are... submitted."
Demi beamed. "I aim to meet expectations."
"That's the first time you've aimed at anything."
"I'm growing. It's a process."
Mira almost smiled. Almost.
The elevator reached the lobby. The doors opened.
She stepped out. Paused. Looked back.
"Tomorrow's the deadline. Don't be late."
Then she walked away.
Demi grabbed El's arm.
"DID YOU SEE THAT. SHE ALMOST SMILED. AT ME. THAT'S PROGRESS."
"She was looking at me."
Demi's face fell. "...Rude."
---
EL'S APARTMENT – 10:15 PM
El sat at the kitchen table. No card. No cracker. Just empty space.
Oreo curled on his lap. Purring.
He stared at nothing.
Stop looking for her.
When you stop running, you'll find her.
When you stop chasing, you'll catch her.
Some people spend their whole lives looking for something that's already there.
He thought about Mira. About Demi. About Hope. About Mark and Théo and Janet from Accounting.
Normal things. Ordinary things.
Things that didn't involve time loops and dying gardens and lost Tuesdays.
But also things that kept him human.
He thought about Kaye.
The dream Kaye. The one who said yes. The one who laughed like spring. The one who was fading.
What if I've been looking in the wrong place?
What if I've been running toward something that's already behind me?
What if the answers aren't forward—but backward?
His phone buzzed.
MIRA: I was going to delete this message three times.
El stared at the screen. His heart did something complicated.
EL: Why?
MIRA: Because I wasn't sure I should send it.
A pause.
MIRA: But then I thought—life's too short to delete things that matter.
EL:What matters?
He held his breath.
MIRA: You.
MIRA: Goodnight, El.
He stared at the words. Read them again. Again.
You.
He set the phone down.
Looked at the empty space where the card used to be.
Stop looking for the exit.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time in days, he didn't chase anything.
He just... waited.