Page 9 of Break Room
‘Mind your own business. I know full well about my childhood,’ Coffee Mix snapped back.
‘Please don’t take it personally, Coffee Mix. I only mean well for you,’ Tumbler said with exaggerated concern. ‘If I were you, I’d see a therapist and get help immediately. Besides, this isn’t eco-friendly. You’d be surprised to learn how reckless consumption habits like this impact the planet.’ He turned back to the sink, rinsing his smoothie tumbler under the running water. It had a wide opening, large enough to fit his entire fist. He scraped out dried tomato residue from inside.
‘Well, maybe you should worry about your own mental health,’ said Coffee Mix. ‘How rational do you think someone who travels all the way to Seattle, of all places, just to buy a tumbler could be? If the international carbon footprint committee stormed in here with a polar bear, you’d be the one getting whacked on the back of the head with its paw, not me.’ She raised both hands like polar bear paws, clearly offended.
I watched anxiously, half expecting her to grab a can of corn from the shelf and swing it at the back of his head.
‘That’s nonsense! I could spend three whole days talking about how much I’ve contributed to protecting the environment, but I’ll spare you for now. Instead, let me tell you about the tumbler and outdoor cutlery set I recently collaborated on with abig manufacturing company. Want me to send you the link? The materials are top-notch – yes, a bit pricey – but if you use them for, say, thirty years, just imagine how many disposables you’ll save. I really should set aside some time to walk you through it. Oh, and we also sell specialised tumbler-cleaning tablets on the website. If you go through the link in the bio of my Instagram account, you can get a twelve per cent discount coup— Wait, where’d she go?’
Coffee Mix was already gone. Watching her leave the break room, I suddenly realised that hoarding the snacks all to herself was clearly against the unspoken rules. This meant Coffee Mix was almost guaranteed to receive her hint card the moment she returned to her flat. And if she had any sense at all, she’d figure out the entire logic of the game in no time.
As much as I had wanted to savour my momentary triumph – feeling as though I’d won the race, even just for a few hours – I knew this was no longer the case.
‘Ice Cube, don’t you also think that kind of behaviour is unacceptable?’ Tumbler asked, pulling me from my thoughts. ‘I mean, sure, it would’ve been easier to stay quiet, to ignore it. No one likes to be the one who calls someone out. But come on – she can’t even hold back when she knows there are cameras rolling. She knows why we’re here. I think every group needs someone like me who is not afraid to call it how I see it.’
Tumbler’s self-righteous tone made me wince, and he probably noticed my uncomfortable expression. I thought he was being naïve – or had he already forgotten why we were all here? Clearly, we hadn’t been brought here to pick at or scold each other. Unless he was the mole, putting on an elaborate act worthy of an Oscar, he seemed utterly clueless about the nature of the game.
Coffee Mix couldn’t possibly know that I’d secured the first hint, but I was certain that she’d received hers by now. If herproposed pact to share our discoveries was truly genuine, she would approach me. She might share how she’d earned her hint, or even drop a subtle clue. But although I ran into her three times in the break room as the day went on, she didn’t say a word.
That day, I began to detest her. Yet, if I was to uncover the mole, I needed to get to know her better. Never in my life had I tried to genuinely understand someone I despised.Never. Hating someone is easy, but making an effort to understand them is hard.
And in that moment, I realised: this wasn’t just a game about petty villains in a break room.
CHAPTER
Six
My bedroom’s wall was directly exposed to the building’s exterior, causing a severe draught that would slowly creep into my office room. As the temperature suddenly dropped, the office room grew increasingly chilly. The only source of warmth came from the hallway leading to the break room and the break room itself. I was often tempted to pause my work and casually wander the hallway. If someone else went into the break room, I’d follow them to quietly observe their activities.
‘I cannot wait to see us in the show,’ Tumbler murmured to Cake inbanmal. ‘It’ll be quite the spectacle, watching how far people are willing to go just to earn one tiny hint slip.’
Cake pressed an index finger to his lips to shush him, which made Tumbler’s eyes widen as if he’d just realised his mistake. He frantically glanced around, then let out a nervous chuckle. I pretended not to hear them as I pulled two slices of bread out of the toaster. The edges were completely burnt, blackened to a crisp, and crumbled apart as I held them.
Tumbler and Cake seemed much closer than they had yesterday. They must have spent considerable time alone together to become so intimate suddenly. They were often found whispering to each other or snickering together at their inside jokes, almost as if they were showing off the strength of their alliance to everyone else. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just me, or if the audience would later feel the same second-hand embarrassment I was feeling – it was pathetic.
Despite my earnest hope to stay ahead in the game for at least a day, by Tuesday afternoon, it seemed like everyone had managed to secure at least one hint. The anxious energy that had hovered over their actions the day before had disappeared.
I wondered if Coffee Mix had made a pact with someone else to share hints, but I leaned more towards the likelihood that, like Coffee Mix, everyone else had stumbled upon their hints by chance – or, from the producer’s perspective, inevitably, due toour own natural tendencies.
I focused on getting more hints without getting caught, moving cautiously to avoid drawing attention to myself. First, I grabbed Tumbler’s prized tumbler – the one he’d bought from the original Starbucks store in Seattle. I filled it with water and drank out of it. I deliberately pressed my lips to the rim, leaving a faint smudge to make it unmistakeable that I had used the tumbler. I tried not to think too much about Tumbler’s yellowing teeth as I did so.
Next, I pulled out the ice-cube tray that was filled with half cola and half coffee, and dumped the entire thing into the sink. Naturally, I didn’t bother refilling it, leaving whoever came next to deal with the empty tray.
‘What are you doing?’
I froze mid-step as I turned to leave the break room; Coffee Mix was standing in the doorway.
‘Just came by to check if anyone was here. You know, lounging around,’ I said casually.
She walked straight to the fridge and yanked open the freezer. She must have heard the sound of ice cubes clattering into the sink from the hallway – there was no other explanation. I noticed her standing on her tiptoes to take a quick glance at the empty spot where the tray usually sat.
‘Oh, I see,’ she replied.
As I made my way out of there and slid the break room door shut, I heard Coffee Mix humming softly from the other side. It seemed to be her way of saying, ‘So, you’re not sharing what you’ve figured out either? Fine. We’re even now.’
When I went back to my flat, I found two hint cards waiting for me in the box. Without a second thought, I circled Coffee Mix on the first card.
Unlike Tumbler’s hint, which was delivered on a chocolatebar, Coffee Mix’s came in the form of a box containing a set of Swiss army knives. The outer case had a warning that read:
