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In the back office, Kelvin rushed to print something for Aliyah to sign. The mail came late that day, and he couldn’t leave until he delivered it. He’d just finished. The clock on the wall read 5:05.

The back office was open for the summer. Stacks of spare chairs stood along one wall with a computer and printer along the other. Several people used the room during the day. Office supplies lay scattered across the desk. Whoever used the computer last printed something back to their cubicle. Kelvin forgot to check the settings and sent Aliyah’s picture to the same place. He sprinted out of the room once he realized.

The picture went to a guy in accounting. His cubicle was on the other end of the office. He sold protein bars as a side hustle. He tried to recruit Kelvin last week. It was an awkward no.

Cubicles stretched for the length of the office. Plants decorated many of the workspaces. People clattered on keyboards or walked in the aisles. The firm had a big project due on Friday, so a lot of people were staying late. Kelvin dodged one group at an intersection. He cut through another chatting across their desks. He apologized as he whipped around the corner.

Luckily, nobody was around when Aliyah’s picture printed. The guy who received it had stepped out for a minute. He came back shaking a protein drink and didn’t notice the paper in his tray. He took his seat then sighed, burping. His polo shirt barely fit.

The wall beside him was full of pictures, a collage of him and his girlfriend. The trash from lunch still cluttered his desk. A container of hair gel hid among the mess.

Kelvin arrived at his cubicle out of breath. The guy looked confused to see him. Their eyes met briefly before his darted to the printer. They both went for the paper at the same time. He grabbed it first, but his co-worker snatched it out of his hand.

“Who is this?” He swiveled in his chair to keep the picture out of reach.

Kelvin backed off. “Come on, man. I’m in a hurry.”

“I see that.” The guy turned the picture sideways, grunting in approval. “But I’m also seeing this, and I got to know. Who’s she?”

It wasn’t like the picture was R-rated or anything. Kelvin wasn’t a fan of her because of that. The shot focused on her dramatic side, which was still embarrassing.

Aliyah posed in the middle of a busy subway station with the activity blurred around her. The effect made it appear windy. Her curly hair blew in the breeze. She’d just cut it short. Her agency ordered the shots to update her portfolio. They were not happy she chopped it without telling them.

“She’s an actress,” he said at last, “Her name’s Aliyah. Gavins. She’s not an A-lister or anything, but she’s up there.” He put his hand out to gesture for it back.

“But why’d you print her?” the guy asked. His tone turned sarcastic as he reclined in his seat. “Were you gonna put her in your locker or something? My girl does collage. You want some pointers?”

Kelvin slapped the wall, jostling his pictures. “Man, why does it matter? I’m trying to catch a signing. I want an autograph. That’s it.”

The guy sat up promptly. The neighboring cubicles went quiet. He took one last look of the picture before handing it over. He held onto it an extra second when Kelvin grabbed it. The paper snapped taut between them.

“Hold up,” he said. He scooted closer to whisper the next part. “Do you got a thing for black chicks, too? Just curious.”

Kelvin gawked at him, dumbstruck.

The guy smirked then nodded to his collage. The pictures showed him and his girlfriend on a variety of dates. They were rock climbers, moviegoers, beach bums. He was bulky and bronze. She was beautiful and black.

Kelvin snatched the paper and left without answering. He jogged to make up for lost time. The guy called after him with a deal on his protein bars. Kelvin heard none of it.