The Outbreak

Another day of the week.

Woke up at seven, thwacked the alarm clock to make that beastly gadget shut up. As usual, my body asleep one second and fully aware the next. The bedroom, the shower, the clothes chosen yesterday and carefully arranged on the sofa for me to put on today. The same as every day. And yet… My whole body felt out of sorts. Each step seemed more laboured than usual, and a tenseness around my temples was a sure symptom of a headache about to develop later on.

The world around me also felt off from the moment my eyes snapped open. The flat hasn’t changed for sure and the same hum of cars could be heard from the great outdoors, but the breakfast tasted bland and the sense of unease wouldn’t go away. For a short moment, the allurement of a call to my boss to get a day off felt worthy of an effort. But my body temperature was normal. No cough, no runny nose. Just a somewhat woozy feel, too ephemeral to become a reasonable excuse. Just a momentary sense of loss.

Looked around on my way to the bus stop. The weather wasn’t bad at all. The summer has almost ended but the early September sun blazed golden and glossy today. A gentle breeze barely swayed the leaves of the trees that stood tall and lush by the pavement. My usual path, known to me as the back of my own hand. Why wouldn’t that strange sense of wrongness cease to haunt me then?

Jogged to the bus stop, hopped on the bus. Scanned other people’s faces carefully. Would they offer any clues? Have they felt as concerned as myself?

Not all of them, no. But there were some who looked unsettled as they shot covert glances at others. Or was that just my fantasy? Surely not. At least a few people looked confused, seemed to meet other passengers’ eyes for half a second too long. None of them bold enough to ask whether the others felt the same unease.

The sense of loss followed me to work. The place looked the same, my colleagues acted normal. Hello, cheers, how are you today and all that. But the strangeness couldn’t be shaken off. We kept our eyes on computer screens, made half-hearted attempts at work but nobody seemed able to focus today.

The heavy mood affected our team, permeated the atmosphere of the conference rooms, weaved around our desks and made our hands pause suspended above the keyboards. The boss chewed on a pen, her gaze glued to an empty wall. My colleagues looked subdued and scarcely moved from the uncomfortable seats. They only mopped sweat from hot foreheads regularly. No usual banter today.

That muffled sense of absence stayed at the back of my head. The wrongness of my own thought processes. Couldn't work out the essence of the problem but searched for clues nonetheless. An unpleasant hunch started to form.

My eyes rested on Donna, the best mate one could ever have. She leaned away from her desk, saw me and beckoned thoughtfully.

‘Donna! How’s work for you today?’

‘Strange. Can’t seem to get any done. The room seems hotter than usual, maybe that’s the problem.’

‘Talked to those guys yesterday? Closed the deal?’

‘Yeah. Actually, we agreed on the terms at last.’

‘Great news! So, when does the contract start?’

Donna opened her mouth to answer but no sound came out. Her face contorted as she made another effort.

That was when my hunch took the shape of fear. The wrongness coalesced all around me. Had to check to be sure though.

‘Donna. Let me ask you about one matter, okay?

She nodded.

‘What do you call yourself?’

She looked at me, profoundly confused.

‘Have you gone gaga?’ The concern on her face.

‘Just tell me. Please.’

Donna’s palm thumped her chest.

‘Donna. What else? You’ve known me for how long: twenty years? Twenty two?’

‘No, that’s not what… Not your name! When you want to say “myself”, what do you say?’

She just sat there, clearly clueless. My heart sank. All the guesswork made my head heavy. The fear felt even worse.

‘Have a hunch about what’s wrong today. We’ve lost… a letter.’

Donna’s brows shot up.

‘From whom?’

‘No! Not that sort of a letter. The alphabet, you know? We’ve lost one… concept. Can’t you feel the loss, an empty space where a letter should be?’

‘Now that you asked… There’s some…’ She struggled to formulate her thoughts properly.

Another attempt had to be made.

‘Donna, can you say the names of all months of the year?’

‘Of course, what does that have to do…’ She saw my expectant look. ‘ Well. January, February, March. March and… March and… May?’

Her tone became softer. She put a hand over her mouth.

We both knew now. Not the cause of what happened, of course, but the symptom was crystal clear.

The concept was almost there, almost ready to be remembered, but… Thoughts refused to flow properly. My mouth couldn’t form the correct shape to utter the forgotten term. Gone from the anatomy, so to speak.

Sweat felt cold on my forehead. My body almost jumped out of the seat. Had to go somewhere. Had to move.

The bathroom door closed on my heels, cold water flew from the tap. Splashed some on my face, looked up and encountered my own gaze.

What was the cause of our symptoms? A pathogen? A venomous substance of some sort? What could have made us all forget one letter of the alphabet? And how could that letter be brought back? My head really hurt now but the memory made an extra effort, brought up a vague trope. There was that old… wossname, saw that one on TV ages ago. A comedy. Not a great one but must have been recalled now for a reason. There was a guy who loved that woman but she was a crazy one… The guy was George Seagal. And the actress? Couldn’t remember. There was a song as well. What was that name?

Me.

Myself.

And…?

.

(1028 words)