The message on the screen was still there, glaring at Harold like a judgmental cat. He had to act fast, but the only thing moving quickly was the cold sweat trickling down his back. Harold was known for his lightning speed as far as data crunching was concerned – but when it came to devouring a ham sandwich – hmmm…but this time, it was serious.
For the next hour, he did his best impression of a cyber-detective. Which mostly involved furrowing his brow, muttering to himself, and squinting at the screen like it owed him money. He sifted through encrypted files with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop, tracing digital footprints like a clumsy toddler playing detective.
Whoever had been snooping around knew their stuff, but Harold wasn’t a total slouch either.
After all, he’d once managed to bypass his ex-wife’s Netflix password to catch up on “Breaking Bad.” So, after much grunting and groaning, a name popped up: Jonathan Reed.
An Old Acquaintance Nobody Wanted
Harold’s heart skipped a beat, then tripped over itself and fell down a metaphorical flight of stairs. Jonathan Reed. That name wasn’t just a blast from the past – it was an airhorn, a foghorn, and a car alarm all going off at once.
“Why now? Why him?” Harold’s inner monologue was starting to sound more like an over-dramatic soap opera than a spy thriller.
He managed to catch the receiver on the second ring, though the phone almost slipped out of his sweaty grip.
“Harold Thompson,” he barked, doing his best to sound like a man who didn’t just lose a boxing match with his own anxiety.
Hey Harold, it’s Arjun,” came the hesitant voice on the other end. The name alone was enough to make Harold’s left eye twitch. “I was wondering if you could help me with something real quick?”
Harold glanced at his secret laptop, then back at his office door. Arjun was nice enough, but Harold was sure the guy was secretly sent to drive him insane.
“Sure, Arjun,” he said through gritted teeth. “Come by in five minutes.”
The last thing he needed was
An Unlikely Distraction
He quickly shut down the laptop, stashing it away in his desk drawer as though it was a cursed artifact. The last thing he needed was Arjun wandering in and asking why Harold had two laptops. “Just my luck,” he muttered as he rearranged some papers for absolutely no reason.
Arjun knocked softly before entering, like he was afraid the door might bite him. “Thanks for seeing me,” he said, holding up a stack of papers so thick it could double as a doorstop. “I’m having trouble with this data set.”
Harold sighed, wondering if anyone else had ever tried to solve complex data problems with a brain running on pure panic. “Sure, Arjun,” he said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Let’s take a look.”
As they worked through the data, Harold’s mind kept wandering back to Jonathan Reed. What did he want? Why now? Did Harold really have to deal with this today of all days? Arjun, bless his heart, was completely oblivious to Harold’s existential crisis.
“Thanks again,” Arjun said, breaking the silence after what felt like an eternity of squinting at numbers and graphs. “You’re really good at this, you know?”
Harold barely heard him. “No problem,” he muttered, his brain already halfway out the door. “Just keep practicing.”
As Arjun left, Harold finally allowed himself to exhale. But as he watched Arjun’s retreating figure, a niggling thought crept into his mind. There was something about the kid that just didn’t sit right. Maybe it was the way he knocked, or the way he always seemed to show up at the worst possible moments. Or maybe it was the fact that Arjun was a bit too eager – like a puppy that had just learned to fetch but was terrible at returning the ball.
Could it be that Arjun wasn’t just the eager intern he appeared to be? Was there more to this data-loving, paper-clutching menace than met the eye?
Harold shook his head. “Nah,” he thought. “That’s just the paranoia talking.”
But then again, Jonathan Reed had reappeared. And if Harold knew one thing, it was that in his world, nothing was ever just a coincidence.
