A Dear John Letter...

It was Cynthia’s job to refill the water jugs in the meeting rooms. It was a daily task and like many of her duties it became mundane quickly. She was taking Eve’s Office Assistant position while Eve went to Scotland for her second cousins’ wedding. There had been jokes about men in kilts with the other staff on the day she’d left. Cynthia made a point of not joining in, she’d heard the jokes before and they bored her. During her orientation day, Cynthia had been instructed by Eve to fill the jugs with the water from the dark blue nozzle of the Neverfail Water Cooler. This nozzle was for the chilled water. The white nozzle, which dispensed room-temperature water was not to be used because 'it's just a thing they like’. This became Cynthia’s silent and sardonic mantra every time she filled the jugs with water.

On the odd occasion Cynthia would cheat and fill the water jugs up with the bottled water in the fridge – that way she didn’t have to walk through the office to fill the jugs she could stay in the kitchen and avoid her colleagues whom she’d found little in common with. But when she’d do this, she was always left with a dissatisfied guilt from the plastic bottles she’d wasted and a feeling that at her core she was really just lazy. She worried about this more than she worried about the environment and this worried her further.

Eve had left two weeks earlier and Cynthia had been filling up the water jugs on time every day, right after she swapped the old newspapers with the new day’s newspaper. Every time she filled the jugs, she found the resemblance the jugs held to puffed up pigeons trying to keep warm, gently amusing. They were round and grey with plastic black beaks and a particular disgruntled look about them. The observation was pleasurable every time as she imagined the jugs coming to life and cooing at her. She would look out across the grey, quiet, open plan office, with the hope of sharing the moment with a workmate. But she was a temp and she didn’t really have workmates, she had other people in the office who needed their letters typed and their spreadsheets formatted. The memory of the awkwardness that had lingered between her and Eve after she made a pun about her 'phoney' professional telephone voice was enough to convince Cynthia not to share her thoughts about the jugs.

Dear John,

Cynthia would write the words in her mind and she saw the letters appear in the imagined email as the hiccup glugging noise of the cooler created the soundscape...

I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye in person. It was a big day the day I left and there were many cobwebs to clear out of the back corners of my desk and inbox before I left – And yes, I dodged the bats.

Cynthia smiled to herself as she carried the cooing pigeon-like jugs through the grey and quiet office…

I should have said goodbye.

Entering the first meeting room, Cynthia found relief in the solitude as she replaced the first jug.

My new job is not very interesting, but it’s ok. I wanted to write and tell you that part of duties here is to replenish the water jugs in the meetings rooms. These water jugs look like puffed-up pigeons and had I still been at the desk across from your office, I would have wasted your time (as if that was unusual) with a coy 'coo coo' noise at your door and then proceed with a short puppet dance through your window with the water jugs, just to highlight how pigeon-esque they look... But I’m not there any more and instead I just fill up the jugs and replace them to their rightful position in the meeting rooms.

Cynthia entered the darkened, still meeting room 2. A black leather covered table with matching chairs dominated the room. She replaced the water jug and stared out the enormous window at the crawling trains below.

This is all I wanted to tell you. I hope you’re well.

Love,
Cynthia

Cynthia looked down and listened to the distant tapping of keyboard keys coming from the office. She knew she would never write the letter. She left the meeting room and closed the door behind her.