The next morning, Lia’s inbox dinged, interrupting her focus. She glanced at the notification bar, and her stomach fluttered—Adam Carter’s name again. His email was brief, following up on the receipts issue, but it ended with another thoughtful note:
Your patience is worth bottling and selling. Maybe then I could afford better coffee.
A soft smile tugged at her lips, unbidden. She read the line again, savouring its simplicity and humour. It was strange, she thought, how a few words could lighten the weight of an otherwise predictable day. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she contemplated her reply.
Finally, she typed:
Patience doesn’t pay the bills, but I’ll take the compliment. Try stapling your receipts straight next time—it’s a small start.
Her finger lingered over the send button, an unfamiliar hesitance bubbling up. But with a small shake of her head, she clicked it, telling herself it was just another email. Professional, polite, and harmless.
When her phone buzzed later that afternoon, she was surprised to see Adam’s name flashing on the screen again. She hesitated for just a moment before answering.
“This is Lia,” she said, keeping her tone even, just like the last time his name had appeared on her screen.
“Hey, Lia, it’s Adam,” he began, his voice carrying the same warmth that lingered in his emails. “I wanted to thank you for the advice about stapling. It’s life-changing… though I’m not sure I’ll stick to it.”
She laughed softly. “I’m glad I could revolutionize your filing system.”
“You have no idea,” he replied, his tone lighter now. “But honestly, I wanted to thank you for being so patient with me. I’m usually met with eyerolls and groans when I mess up paperwork.”
“Well, I’ll save the eyerolls for next time,” she teased.
His laugh came easily, and she found herself leaning back in her chair, relaxing into the conversation. It wasn’t unusual for her to get calls at work, but it was rare for one to feel… comfortable, as though she were speaking to someone she’d known far longer than a handful of emails.
“Fair warning,” Adam said, a trace of amusement still in his voice. “You might regret giving me your number. I’m not above abusing it for work emergencies.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she replied lightly, a smile softening her words. She hadn’t consciously given him her number, it was part of her professional signature that ended all of her emails.
The call ended before long, but as Lia returned to her tasks, her mind wandered back to his voice. There was something disarming about him, an easy charm that felt almost foreign in her carefully compartmentalized world. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of… warmth. She smiled. Secretly, she liked this very much.
Over the next week, their correspondence evolved. What started as brief, efficient work emails turned into small exchanges peppered with humour and personal touches. Adam always managed to slip in a comment that lingered longer than it should, and Lia found herself waiting, not eagerly, she told herself, but with a quiet anticipation, for his name to pop up in her inbox. And it never failed to happen.
One evening, as she scrolled through her phone on the couch, her partner beside her flipping through a magazine, a text message from Adam lit up her screen:
When was the last time you stopped thinking about the future and just let yourself get lost in the moment?
Her heart raced. He had never gotten in touch after office hours before. The question felt monumental, different from the humorous banter they shared daily. Her thumb hovered over the screen. The question felt pointed somehow, as if he’d reached through the digital ether and touched on a truth she’d kept buried. Or at least she had tried to bury this kind of emotions as deep as possible, they didn’t have a place in her orderly life.
Not really, she typed back after a moment. My mind doesn’t know how to wander—it’s always steering the ship.
His reply came almost instantly:
That’s a shame. I wonder what you’d be like if you let go of everything pulling you down.
Her breath caught, the knot in her chest tightening as she stared at the screen. Where did this lead? Was she ready for a conversation like that to happen? Across the room, her partner flipped another page, oblivious. Adam’s words lingered, pressing into her like a quiet storm.
And you? she typed, her fingers trembling slightly. Do you let your mind wander?
After a pause, his response appeared:
Sometimes. But it’s easier when I’m talking to you.
Lia’s chest tightened further. She set her phone down carefully, her eyes fixed on the fading glow of the screen. The rustle of magazine pages and the low hum of the television seemed louder than they usually were, the normalcy of it all almost mocking the turmoil inside her. She hadn’t expected Adam to have such an intense side, and even less that she would ever see it.
Her partner glanced up briefly, his brow furrowing. “Everything okay?” he asked without looking away from the magazine.
She nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just work stuff.”
But it wasn’t just work stuff. And as she leaned back into the cushions, her mind was far from the room she sat in, lingering instead in the quiet pull of Adam’s words. Lia knew that she should have felt guilty, she should have told her partner the truth. But she hadn’t. She almost wanted to overthink it, but her thoughts wander off to Adam again.
reflections of an unquiet mind 