You ask your coworker if she's seen the Henderson file. She stares at you like you've just materialized from a different dimension and spoken in tongues. You repeat the question, slower this time, enunciating each word like you're narrating a nature documentary. She blinks twice and says, "Sorry, what?" You realize she's been looking directly at you the entire time—she just wasn't home.

You ask your colleague if he's seen the Henderson file. He stares. You wait. You ask again, slower this time, like you're describing colors to a potato. Still staring. You're convinced he's either deeply contemplating the nature of existence or hasn't blinked since 2019. Then his eyes focus and he goes, "Sorry, what?" — turns out he was just looking *through* you at the motivational poster behind your head.