"Thanks," he said, flicking the Christmas list with the back of his fingernail. "I will take this under advisement."

Penny watched her boss's retreating form as he left her cubicle and headed toward his office. He glanced at her over his shoulder, and she felt her cheeks warm up at having been caught with her eyes on him.

He turned and lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers in a pantomime of typing on a keyboard. "Work?" he mouthed silently, raising his eyebrows.

She replied with an exaggerated shrug. Instead of turning back toward her computer, she reached into the open gift box of chocolate-covered cherries. She popped another one into her mouth, closing her eyes and chewing lazily, until the sound of his laughter rewarded her.

She opened her eyes to smile back at him, but he'd already disappeared behind his office doors.

Penny swiveled in her chair and tried to force her attention back to the spreadsheet on her screen. She moved her cursor to an empty row and started filling in the boxes with names and dates, but her mind kept wandering back to the way his face had looked when he sat there squinting at her Christmas list.

It was good to hear him laughing again. For a while, she'd wondered if she would ever hear the sound again.  She looked down at her keyboard and sighed as her mind drifted back over those long days and nights in the hospital, sitting beside his bed. He'd spent three days in the ICU after coming out of surgery. Three days of watching and waiting, before he'd even regained consciousness - before he'd blinked against the glare of the fluorescent lights and looked around the room with frightened eyes-

Penny was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of a loud crash. She froze, listening. Had it come from David's office? Had something happened? Had he fallen? She nearly toppled her desk chair behind her in her haste to get to his door.

Her heart was in her throat as she pushed the door open. She brought her hand to her chest in relief when she saw him standing just inside.

She couldn't see his face. He had his back to the door and his hands jammed in his pockets. He didn't turn to look as she entered the room behind him.

"David?" she asked softly.

He was staring at a blank wall opposite the door. She moved a few paces into the office and stopped just behind his left shoulder, but still he didn't move or turn around.

"David?" she said again. "I heard a noise."

She lifted her hand to touch his elbow and felt him flinch at the contact. She followed his gaze and saw the remnants of a broken keyboard on the floor at the base of the wall.

"What happened?"

She stooped down to pick the keyboard up, but she saw in an instant that it was damaged beyond repair. The frame was bent. Most of the keys had come loose and lay strewn about the floor. An exposed wire protruded from the hole where the cord should have been. She looked up and touched her finger to a spot on the wall where the paint had chipped away.

He must have thrown it, she realized with a shock. He must have yanked his keyboard off his desk with enough force to snap the cord and chucked it clear across the room.

She looked up at him questioningly, but he had turned away again. She could hear the sound of his breathing - harsh and jagged - as she began gathering up the loose pieces.

"Leave it," he said in a tight voice. "I'll clean it up myself."

"I'll get you a new one."

He still didn't turn around. "Forget it. Go. Now." He held his arm out straight and pointed toward the door. "Now."

She put the pieces of the keyboard back down and stood up. "Sorry," she whispered.

She didn't look at him again as she made her way awkwardly toward the door.

"Penny."

She turned. He had one hand braced against his desk now, and he leaned against it heavily. In his other hand he held a gift-card sized envelope - the one he had pocketed from the gift pile just a few minutes before. He held it out in her direction without looking up to meet her eyes.

"Here," he said tersely. A muscle jumped at the base of his jaw. "Take it. I don't want it. Go buy yourself something nice."

She took the envelope from his hand and left the room in confusion. It wasn't until she was back at her desk that she finally understood - after she looked inside and saw what it contained: a $200 gift card.

From the New York Running Company.

***

June 2024 (Present Day)

Penny set down the half-empty box she'd been unpacking and let out a long breath. The New York Running Company....

Of course, he'd been upset. The moment she saw the card, she'd understood the reason. It must have hit him like a punch to the gut. She'd kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. He'd always treated his morning run like it was a religion.

"Discipline," he used to say to her. "Rain or shine. Sick or healthy. Secret to success, Penny."

Only one thing could have kept him away from the jogging paths of Battery Park. Only one thing could have had more power over him than all his beloved rules and discipline.  He must have been terrified, she'd realized. Who wouldn't be terrified to venture back to the scene of the crime? She couldn't say she blamed him.

She'd been agonizing for weeks about what to get him for Christmas, but the answer had been obvious as soon as she saw the card. She knew exactly what he needed. And she knew he'd be too stubborn to buy it for himself.

She could hardly wait to finish work that evening and head to the New York Running Company's flagship store. There they were, all lined up in a neat row at the back - the answer to all of David's sleepless nights and restless moods, right there in front of her eyes.

"Can I help you with something?" the salesman had asked.

"I need a treadmill," she'd responded. "Show me the nicest one you've got."

Of course, she hadn't figured on the price. Her $200 gift card didn't even cover the warranty. How could she have imagined the nicest treadmill in the store sold for over $10,000? She'd settled for the middle-of-the-road version instead, and she'd still ended up charging more than three month's salary onto her credit card.

It had been worth it, though, when he'd shown up at work on December 26th with a spring in his step and his hair still damp from the shower.

"You're in a good mood. Did you go for a run?" she'd asked him innocently.

"Discipline," he'd practically chirped at her in response. "Never underestimate the importance of discipline."

He never had figured out who the treadmill was from, of course. She'd had it delivered to his apartment on Christmas Day with a big red bow and a note that read:

XOXOXO

Love, You-Know-Who 

But he didn't know who. That was the whole point. She'd had one of her roommates write the card so he wouldn't recognize the handwriting. He'd never suspected - not with his vast array of female admirers. It could have been any one of dozens. He'd laughed to her about it afterward when he'd told her the story.

"I'm in so much trouble, Penny."

"So you really have no idea where to send a thank you note?" It had taken every ounce of self-control to keep her face from giving her away.

"Not a clue." He'd perched himself on the edge of her desk and chuckled. "Women," he'd said, shaking his head. "Here's a rule for you, Penny. Don't buy gifts for a guy who isn't your boyfriend."

Penny had shrugged in response. "I don't know. Maybe she doesn't want a thank you. Maybe she just wanted you to have it."

"No way," he'd laughed. "You'll see. Somewhere on the island of Manhattan, there's a woman who thinks I owe her something."

Penny couldn't help smiling to herself now as she remembered how he'd smirked. It had been worth it just to see that expression back on his face.

"Somewhere on the island of Manhattan, there's a woman who thinks I owe her something." He'd been wrong about that, although he didn't know it at the time. She'd considered herself paid in full two days earlier - when he'd stopped at her desk on Christmas Eve and handed her a gift-wrapped package.