Unmissed

“Now wait a second,” my voice trembling. “How the hell can that be?”

The woman across the desk from me leaned forward, “It just happens.”

“Just happens,” I cried, my voice rising. “Nothing just happens.”

Her lips curved into a smile, serene yet tinged with cold indifference. “Well, it appears you are having a mental breakdown, then.”

“I know that work there for over four and a half years,” I protested, “I still have my identification card.”

The woman rose then, her form stretching upward with an eldritch grace that defied the confines of human proportion, towering far taller than I anticipated, her frame thin.

She leaned over the desk. “The truth is that you never existed to them, so they will never miss you.”