I was having lunch with my colleagues.

“Where is Samir?” Oscar asked.

“Don’t know. Never knows where he is,” Miles said.

“I know where he is. He is here on Saturday,” Oscar said. “One time I came to the office on Saturday to get some stationery, a pair of scissors, and there he was, working in the dark. I scared the crap out of him.”

Everyone laughed.

“What a weirdo,” Miles said. “He probably had his hoody on again, and sat like this.” He made an imitation of Samir, crossing his arms on the table and resting his forehead on them. People laughed again. It’s a running joke in the group to laugh about Samir’s reclusiveness. Nobody seemed to mind. Miles sat up, fixed his blond curly hair, looking pretty smug about his delivery.

“Guys, let’s talk about something else.” I tried to diffuse the situation, but then the door opened, and Samir came in with his lunchbox.

“Hey, big dude, where’s your iron-clad hoody?” Oscar called out to him. Samir pretended not to hear him and walked straight to his office. I caught his eye at the last moment, he smiled sadly at me, and the door was shut.

“Damn, I let him slip out again.” Oscar thumbed towards the closed door. More laughter ensued. Everyone knew it’s just a joke. Nothing serious.

---

One month ago, after a conference, I was drinking with Samir at a bar.

“I only go drinking with people I trust,” he told me. “I trust you, but I will never trust them.”

“Who’s them?” I asked.

“Others in the group.”

I was confused.

“You are new here. You don’t know. I hate this place. I hate its research, its people. I had a row with Caleb (our PI) right before this conference. Because I was slow on his project—I was just not interested in it, you know. I am slow, so I have to spend extra time on it, going through each to-do list he dictated me. I stayed in the office till 8pm, sometimes 10pm.”

I was very surprised.

“Yes. Even on the weekends,” he said.

“But I don’t see you on the weekends. I was also there, sometimes.”

“I turned the light off. I didn’t want them to know that I needed extra time to keep up. They’d mock me for sure. One time, Oscar ran into me. He saw me there. Fuck, he looked at me like I was some untamed animal. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, ‘don’t you have a social life outside of work?’ I ignored him, but I wanted to jam my scissors through his stupid bald head. I will have him pay.”

I asked about others in the group.

“Logan was fine but naive. I wouldn’t trust him. And Miles.” He clenched his fist. “He is the worst. Arrogant, pretty prince. Caleb loved him the most. I see nothing lovable in his stupid face. He acted like he didn’t give a shit. Well, nothing he gave a shit. No responsibility. Responsibility is wasted on him. I know they laugh at me because I don’t socialize. I used to join the lunch, you know. Now, I pulled down the hoody because I can’t look at them in the eyes, I was afraid I can’t control myself.”

---

Someone at the table asked whether I was going to the institute retreat.

“I don’t think so. Will you all?” I said.

None but Miles would go.

“What about Samir?” I asked.

“Who knows what he wants to do,” Miles said.

“Nobody cares what he thinks anyway,” Oscar said. “That’s why you probably don’t want him to go along with you, right Miles? Because you can’t stand to be in the same bus with that corpse.” Oscar tried to show off his wits again.

“Yes, please Sir, don’t let him defile my sacred retreat, Sir,” Miles replied with equal intelligence.

I wanted to stand up and tell them their joke had gone too far. But I was too much a coward.

“Why don’t you come with me? You’ve never been to Innsbruck before,” Miles asked me.

“I can’t. I had a writing club that day.”

“A what?”

“A writing club.”

“Oh. So what do you write about?”

“Well, here and there, mostly bullshits people did to others.”