It's all so quiet. Why's it so quiet all of a sudden?

All I could hear were the clicks of my keyboard as I rearranged the words in a sentence. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the monitor and turned my head to the right. A plastic carved pumpkin grinned at me from where it was hung on the wall, across the empty row of chairs. I jerked left. Ouch. I massaged my neck, sore from the hours of sitting in the chair and staring at the screen. I should've taken a break after lunch, but I'd been so absorbed in work I didn't even realize when the office had emptied out. I was the only one in the room. And the over-enthusiastic décor surrounding me from all four sides reminded me it was Halloween night.

With this realization, my eyes automatically landed on the wall clock.

11:50 pm.

Wow.

Where are the guards tonight? Normally, they would make their final rounds at 10 pm before locking up the rooms, but I didn't remember seeing any of them even patrolling the corridor in the last two hours.

Although truth be told, I didn't really mind being left alone to work in peace. In fact, I'd been working non-stop for the past six hours only with the aim of meeting the deadline of 10 am the next day. It was actually all my boss's fault—she was the one who'd insisted on decking up our department space with spooky stuff in honour of Halloween, and we were the poor employees who had to put all our work aside to satisfy her whims and fancies. Hello? This is India—no one even celebrates the holiday in our country! But of course, as soon as we came to work, we had to spend three good hours making origami bats out of black paper and sticking them on the walls; arranging those annoyingly cute ghost cut-outs into streamers to hang them all over the ceiling; and frantically scouring the market for a witch's broom and hat, but ultimately having to make do with our good ol' jhadoo and a borrowed plastic hat that looked as if it had been plucked right off the head of a summer-vacationing kid by our supposed resident witch.

Obviously, there was no way I'd have been able to submit the edited manuscript the next day if I, albeit unintentionally, hadn't stayed back beyond working hours.

Narrowing my tired eyes, I looked at the page number.

103 of 153. Only fifty pages to go. Great.

The backrest of my chair creaked loudly as I leaned against it. Cringing, I pushed my chair back from the desk and stood up for a stretch. I'd dreamed of such a day when I'd be alone at our grand office but hadn't ever seriously thought it would come, and that, too, today of all days. Or nights. A bit nervous now, I walked to the door, each step echoing loudly in the pin-drop silence. I had half a mind to slip off my sandals and walk barefoot just to maintain the peaceful atmosphere.

When I peeked into the corridor, I was surprised to find it only dimly lit. Curious, I walked out. The doors to the other big rooms were closed. No, scratch that—they were locked. I was probably the only person in the whole building. Why would the guards leave my door, then? It was intriguing, to say the least.

Nearing the end of the passage, I noticed that the door to the break room was slightly ajar. Strangely, there were no lights on inside. I pushed the door wide open and fumbled for the switches on the wall beside. In the milliseconds of darkness in between, my mind conjured a million horrific scenes I could encounter in the next moment. But as light flooded the room, I saw it was completely empty.

That was weird. I'd thought (with some part of my rational, not-spooked-out mind) someone was probably crashing in here for the night, ergo the door not being locked and the lights being off as well. But it looked as if whoever had been here last had left in a hurry. The desk in the corner was strewn with papers, watercolours, paint-dipped brushes and pens, and a sheet was peeking out of a closed drawer.

I walked over to the table and picked up a sheet to examine. It was a minimalist sketch of a woman, painted with a thick brush with seemingly rough strokes. I picked up another. This one had a turtle drawn on it, coloured with paint. These were, clearly, attempts at book cover designs; if I didn't work in a publishing house, I'd have taken them for a child's work, they were so crude!

The paper half-stuck in the closed drawer caught my attention. I pulled the drawer open to release it. Taking out the now-creased sheet, I was instantly mesmerized by the design sketched on it. It was that of a stunning girl with alluring eyes, dressed in turquoise-silver robes, placed against the backdrop of an enchanting forest at night, with the moon's sheen captured beautifully on the girl's jet-black hair and the surrounding treetops.

"Do you like it?"

I started when I heard the voice. A man, about the same age as me, was standing at the door. He was an inch shorter than me, had a pale complexion, straight black hair, and a clean-shaven face. He was dressed in a casual, plain blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans. His hopeful eyes stared right into mine.

"Are you alright? Hope I didn't scare you," he said sheepishly.

My mouth was hanging open. I blinked. "Umm, no... I just didn't hear you coming, and I thought I was alone here. I'm sorry," I offered him a smile.

"I'm sorry, too; shouldn't have popped up like that in my own office," he smiled slyly and came forward. "Do you like it?" he repeated, nodding to the paper in my hand.

"Yes. Of course! It's stunning. Are these all your designs?" I put the sheet on the table.

His eyes clouded a little as he started moving closer. "Not all of them. Only the one you were looking at. Looks like someone else was working here." He passed me and began to gather the art supplies, and collecting the sheets together, squatted down to place them all in the bottom drawer.

"Yeah, I thought the same. I'm not a designer, though. Editor. I'm Nisha, by the way," I sat on the couch, hoping he'd introduce himself.

"Editor, huh? You must have a ton of work to be here so late," he replied, ignoring my last sentence. "Want a coffee?" he stood back up and pointed to the coffee machine.

"Yes, please," I gratefully accepted his offer. "I was finishing a manuscript that's due tomorrow morning. Still have fifty pages to go, but this couch seems so comfortable I might just crash for the night despite the inevitable pay cut," I sighed.

He gave a light chuckle, a sound that I could barely make out over the swoosh of the brewed liquid pouring into the cup he held. When it was done, he handed the warm mug to me and perched at the other end of the sofa.

"Thanks. You don't drink coffee?"

"Nope, not anymore."

"Okay." I took a sip and felt the warmth course through my insides. Some of my jitters melted away. "By the way, what are you doing hanging around here at midnight? Ghost hunting on Halloween?"

"No," he smiled. "Do I look like a ghost-hunter? I just like to work alone, so I often stay back late."

"Huh. I don't remember ever seeing you around. But then I prefer to complete my work well in advance, so I've never stayed here this late either." I took another swig.

"Do you need help with your work?"

That was so unexpected that I burnt my tongue. "You know editing?"

"I mean, I worked in your department for a year or so before I realized art was my real calling," his eyes twinkled.

"Wow. Talk about being multitalented." I gave him an amused grin.

"So?" he raised an eyebrow.

I stared at him. "You're serious about helping?"

"Yes." His tone was firm, and his eyes earnest.

"But what about your work?"

"I can do that later, it's not urgent."

"Well, then, okay. Have you been in our department recently? We spent this morning making it extremely cozy in case anyone needed to pull an all-nighter tonight," I joked and stood up. He followed suit.

"Lead the way, ma'am."

I escorted him to my part of the office.

I was madly happy as I showed him around the space and told him the stories behind each item of décor in the room. He laughed at the right places and commented with equal interest. I'd been working here for some time, now, but I'd never gelled so well with any of my other co-workers before this. It was either the caffeine or my new colleague that was making me feel so high tonight. Or maybe both.

Anyway, we reached my desk and I "loaned" him the spare PC unit adjoining my cubicle. We both began to work. For the next hour and a half, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were the clicks and hums of our devices.