Lived once

"Emma! Emma! Have you read the news?" Charlie came into the room banging open the door, with her over the top voice, panting and visibly struggling to speak.

"She isn't here. Don't you remember her cubicle got shifted to the department upstairs," said a clearly annoyed, sleep-deprived and overworked individual from the political news department. "This is the fourth time you came here searching for her," chuckled a co-worker. "Must be some serious gossip if you can't wait for the after-hours, isn't it?" poked the first, still perusing through the multitude of articles on her desk, occasionally letting out a sigh, a slice of her soul leaving her body each time.

The group who'd jump out of their chairs to talk to her during the daily discussions had not turned an eye from their screens. Persistent calls which no one was willing to pick up, the chatter of the keyboards combined with low screams, sighs which filled the room with melancholy, nothing which was novel to the excited Charlie. She was not young anymore, but that didn't leave her anymore exhausted than the younger people in the department. She had an especially important reason to be on her feet. The group could sense it for they weren't strangers. The folks from the political scene and the crime news were familiar rivals, always looking for ways to get on the nerves of the other. Lead by the dearest women in 'The Everyday'.

"Oh, I remember now! Off I go. Have fun," said the cheerful lady as she scuttled through the hallway.

"She doesn't know yet," a faint voice came through to her, a little concerned how her previous editor would take this news in.

"Yeah, I know, I know. But she needs to know this too. Maybe this will light a new spark in her? Or kill the flame entirely?" she muttered to herself, walking through the empty hallway, "You never know what makes her tick. All I can do is keep her alive until the time comes. It's finally time huh?" she smiled to herself and she climbed up the stairs.

"Those guys are in a real hell. How many people did she kill? Will they be able to figure it out before tomorrow?"

"It doesn't matter. It's going to be on the news for a long time. They have enough time and material to keep the town entertained for at least another week.

"I don't think it's the case this time. She'll make sure to keep the mouths shut before everything comes out," came the voice slowly climbing up the stairway. "That happens all the time here. People turned a blind eye to it. But her curse is real," the voice continued.

"How do you want to die? By a living wrath or a dead curse?" The other voice joked. But both of them knew it wasn't funny.

The eavesdropper from the next floor knew it too. Knew it too well through experience. Her hand clutched the railing, her breathing back to normal and her eyes now serious. This suited more for a person relaying the news of death. Seeing the end of the flight of stairs, she steeled her resolve, to deliver the news, no matter what.

She opened the door again with a bang yelling, "Emma darling! Have you read the news?"

"You can't just barge into someone's office and yell at the top of your lungs," came a disinterested reply.

"Common, which editor has the privilege of a private cubicle?"

"An editor with a lot of work. So I ask you now to leave"

"And come back with an appointment?" her voice full of sarcasm. "I didn't know to shift to the corporate world meant having to act like one too," said the grumpy pouted lady.

"Corporate or criminal, we all have a job to do. And I ask you to go do your work. And stop lazing off during the office hours"

"This is my work!" she brightened up again, "It is right out of the oven. And let me tell you, it's hot!"

"I'm not into gossip anymore," said the pretty girl without any hint of emotion on her face.

She must have been around thirty, though wasn't the one to look her age. Stoic and disinterested in everything except her work, she was the epitome of what a journalist wanted to be. It is hard not to get carried away with the news. She wasn't always like that. Drama queen was her nickname, but that was before she took on her new position. The position wasn't the cause for her change, it was the circumstances.

"It's not gossip, its murder gossip," said Charlie, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't understand why I should be interested in something which doesn't concern my work," came back a reply, slowly showing annoyance.

A slight smile on her face, happy to break the poker face, Charlie continued, "It definitely is. It definitely is your business," rustling a couple of papers she was holding onto.

The sound of the fluttering papers made Emma turn for a moment, a response conditioned into every person working with stacks of papers for a long time. In the moment of distraction, she caught the glimpse of the writing on the paper. All she knew of was someone's death.

"Let's call it a knowledge exchange. Don't you think editors need to do this from time to time?" flaring up the papers into a fan in front of her face, "You are the best editor here, give me some of you secrets too," peeping above the fan to catch a glimpse of her response.

Clearly annoyed, she turned completely away from her monitor only to see the news presented to her. All she could make from that distance was the death of Mrs Thompson.