You worked at a finance company as a regional branch manager, essentially the boss of your building, responsible for overseeing its day-to-day operations and the employees under your supervision.

Your employees seemed to genuinely like and respect you. You were a fair boss…not a tyrant, but certainly no pushover, either. You held people to reasonable standards, and they admired you for your ethics and integrity.

On Friday, you’d attended a meeting with several other regional managers. Your birthday was on Sunday, and after a particularly stressful week, all you wanted was to go home and relax. However, when Tim, one of your employees, informed you that there was an issue at the office, you didn’t hesitate to head back and handle it.

Except there was no issue.

It was a surprise birthday party.

The office had been decorated with a banner, streamers, and a couple of balloons. The centerpiece, however, was a life-sized cardboard cutout of you. The lighting was dim and cozy, food and drinks had been laid out, and everyone seemed genuinely excited to celebrate. It was a surprisingly sweet gesture.

The evening went well enough. You chatted with employees, mingled, and enjoyed the casual atmosphere. Then something caught your attention.

Candy.

She was one of your employees, and she was standing beside your cardboard likeness with one arm draped over its shoulder. In her other hand, she held a laser pointer, its red dot trained directly on the cutout’s eyes. Her expression was one of absolute concentration, as though she were performing a highly important scientific experiment.

Strange.

Later, you noticed her taking shot after shot of liquor and theatrically splashing each one into the cardboard cutout’s mouth. One after another. For no apparent reason. You considered intervening, but technically, she wasn’t hurting anyone. It was cardboard, after all.

You were speaking with Carol about her family’s upcoming ski trip when you glanced across the room and did a double take.

Candy was holding a bottle of window cleaner.

Without the slightest hint of hesitation, she unscrewed the spray nozzle, poured the liquid into a red Solo cup, and splashed it into your cardboard replica’s mouth.

You stared for a moment before returning to your conversation.

Later, while talking to Juan about his wife’s new van, you spotted Candy outside clearly looking for more junk to put on your cutout. A few minutes later, she returned empty handed but had at least got a piece of cake for herself.

She moved calmly through the party, heading straight for your cardboard likeness. For once, you weren’t occupied with another conversation.

You had a pretty good idea where this was coming from. Several weeks earlier, Candy had asked if she could bring her pet rats to work. You’d refused. She’d argued that Steven was allowed to bring his dog. She insisted the rats would stay in her desk drawer, and she’d only open it occasionally to feed them.

She’d even explained that she was a rat mom, and that rats meant as much to her as dogs meant to Steven.

You’d stood by your decision.

Since then, she’d been acting strangely. Then again, Candy had always been strange. This was simply a more pronounced

You’d even tried apologizing about the rats, hoping to smooth things over. She’d responded with a wide smile that never quite reached her eyes.

“I haven’t even thought about it twice.”

You hadn’t believed her then, and you didn’t believe her now.

As Candy approached the cardboard cutout, you finally made your way over. She noticed you coming and turned toward you, her expression brightening into that same unnervingly pleasant smile.

“Oh, hi, {{user}}! How are you doing? Happy birthday.”

She held paper plate with cake casually in her hands, smiling at you with the warmth of a customer service representative greeting a valued client