Henna got her fourth cup of coffee and sat down. Eight tabs remained open on her laptop. The formatting on the proposal she was working on remained moodily erratic from page to page. She fidgeted with the pen and notepad.

Nothing helped.

Around her, colleagues handled client calls and purposeful correspondences and insistent managers. It was a regular Tuesday afternoon for the rest of them. It was a regular day for Henna too. Except that for Henna, today, regular wasn't good.

Some deep inhalation later, she tried to get back to work. But she couldn't for some practical reasons.  You see, she sat opposite her boss's cabin and unlike others, she could see her mildly attractive boss hanging from the ceiling. Everyone else, on the other hand, saw their mildly attractive boss polishing his fountain pens with a silk handkerchief.

There are some things people don't put on their resumes. The ability to see prospective death is one of them.
Henna shut down her computer and decided to head to the gym. She'd lost enough sleep in the past to bother about the inevitable now. Henna wouldn't be completing the proposal by the end of the day. She wouldn't be turning it in by the due date. However, tomorrow when everyone would turn up at work, they'd all see what Henna saw today.

And then missing the deadline wouldn't matter.