Echoes of Her

He ignored that feeling and went to work.

The office had always been a place of quiet comfort for Ethan a space where familiarity wrapped around him like a well-worn coat. The soft hum of printers, the low murmur of colleagues discussing projects, the occasional ring of a phone. It was predictable, structured, a world that made sense.

His co-workers were the kind of people who offered warm greetings in the morning, who brought an extra coffee for someone having a rough day, who filled the silence with light-heated jokes when the workload got too heavy. Robert, the office perfectionist, whistled absentmindedly while proofreading. Emily, lost in thought, tapped her pen against her desk in a steady rhythm. It was a chorus of small, familiar things, a routine that should have put Ethan at ease.

But today, it didn’t.

There was a disconnection between him and the world around him, a lingering unease that refused to fade. He sat at his desk, fingers hovering over his keyboard, but his mind felt sluggish, unwilling to focus. His phone sat beside him, unmoving, silent. He picked it up, unlocked it.

No messages from Lila.

That wasn’t normal.

“Earth to Ethan?”

Mia’s voice pulled him back. He looked up to see her leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, amusement and concern flickering in her hazel eyes.

“You’re a million miles away.”

Ethan forced a chuckle. “Just tired.”

Mia tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You sure? You’ve seemed off to me.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just a rough morning.”

She didn’t press, but something in her expression softened, a quiet understanding settling between them. She wanted to say something he could see it in the way her lips parted, the slight furrow of her brow but instead, she offered a small smile and patted the desk lightly.

“Don’t let Anderson catch you spacing out. He’s in one of his moods today.”

Ethan exhaled, nodding as she walked away. But even after she was gone, he could still feel the weight of her concern, the silent sadness in her eyes.

He turned back to his phone one last time before setting it down again, face down this time, trying to focus.

But the unease remained, whispering just beneath the surface.

Something was off. He just didn’t know what yet.

The day stretched ahead of him with the promise of routine, something solid to hold onto. Work had always been his anchor, a place where things made sense, where the lines between cause and effect were clearly drawn. There was satisfaction in completing tasks, in feeling useful. He craved that structure now more than ever. So, when he stepped into the office that morning, he inhaled deeply, as if the air itself could ground him.

For a while, it worked. The rhythm of typing keys, the shuffle of papers, the distant murmur of phone conversations these were the familiar sounds of productivity, of purpose. Ethan buried himself in his tasks, answering emails, reviewing reports, anything to keep his mind engaged. And yet, despite his efforts, a restlessness gnawed at him from within.

By mid-morning, his initial enthusiasm had begun to wane. The numbers on his screen blurred together. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what he was supposed to type. He found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over, unable to process the words. His thoughts were elsewhere adrift in a fog he couldn’t shake.

It started subtly at first. A moment of hesitation before clicking send on an email. A brief, inexplicable pause while staring at his calendar. A sudden forgetfulness why had he walked into the break room? What had he meant to do? Small, insignificant lapses, yet each one left him with an unsettling feeling, as if something was slipping through his fingers.

By lunch, he had given up pretending he wasn’t distracted. His appetite was nonexistent. He pushed his food around absentmindedly, his mind wandering into dangerous territory. Thoughts of Lila crept in uninvited memories he couldn’t quite place, emotions that felt too distant and yet too close all at once. He clenched his fists, as if gripping reality would keep him from spiraling.

Mia noticed. Of course, she did.

She sat across from him, her lunch untouched as well. She didn’t pry, but the concern in her eyes was evident. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, careful.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know.”

Ethan looked up, startled. “What?”

“That everything’s fine.” She studied him, her gaze steady but gentle. “You’ve been… different lately.”

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah. Guess I have.”

She didn’t push, didn’t demand explanations. Instead, she just sat there, offering a presence that, oddly, felt grounding. But even as Ethan appreciated her silent support, the guilt clawed at him. He wasn’t supposed to feel comforted by anyone but Lila. Wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all beyond the ache of missing her.

The rest of the day dragged. Tasks that once brought him pride now felt empty. Conversations that used to engage him now felt hollow. He had once taken joy in the little victories solving a difficult problem, cracking a joke that made a coworker laugh but now, it all felt… distant. Like watching someone else live his life while he remained stuck in place.

He tried to focus, to shake the fog from his mind, but his thoughts betrayed him at every turn. They pulled him under, deeper into the murky depths of memory and uncertainty. He found himself thinking about Lila’s smile, about the way her laughter used to echo through their home. He thought about the warmth of her hand in his except, had it been warm? Lately, the memory felt colder, like the touch of stone.

Had it always been that way?

A chill ran down his spine. He shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. No. He was just tired. Overthinking. That’s all.

But the doubt lingered. The more he thought about Lila, the more fragmented she seemed. Like a puzzle missing key pieces. Like a picture blurred just out of focus. He clenched his fists, frustration and fear intertwining. Why did it feel like the harder he tried to hold onto her, the more she slipped away?

The office buzzed around him, life moving forward as it always did. People laughed, talked, worked. And yet, Ethan felt like an outsider adrift in a world that no longer fit quite right.

By the time the workday ended, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. As he stepped outside, the crisp evening air did little to clear his head. The city stretched before him, alive with movement, with possibilities. But Ethan barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a web of uncertainty and fading memories.

He had been excited this morning. For work. For a sense of normalcy. For the illusion that things could still make sense.

Now, as he walked home beneath the dimming sky, he couldn’t help but wonder was he losing himself, or had he already been lost for far longer than he realized?