I’ve never missed a single day of work. So I find it preposterous that anyone would suspect me in the case of the missing office attendance book.

There isn’t a day where you’ll look through the four names meant to be scribbled on that book and not find mine there. Even on days where the names written are three or two—and even that day it was just one name—mine is never absent. The day when my chair aches for my butt will never come unless it’s the weekend or a public holiday.

So when Aniekan, the group head, narrows her eyes at me and says, “Are you sure you didn’t take the book by accident?” I do well to remind her that I’ve never missed a day of work. Hence, I have nothing to hide and no motive to steal the book.

“Well, there was the day you claimed to be sick and missed out on Fola’s birthday cake. And that time you claimed your car broke down so you couldn’t make it,” she replies.

“Those don’t count,” I say to her because they’re irrelevant. I was ill and took a sick day. The other time, my car broke down and I informed her of it pronto. Those aren’t absences.

My eyes roam the other three faces in the room. I have a hunch they’re all secretly grateful that we don’t have an attendance book to submit to HR because it exonerates them from having to explain their sporadic absences.

“This is why I’ve always said we should go digital like the other teams. Then this wouldn’t have happened,” Fola says.

I roll my eyes. “Stop acting as if things can’t get lost digitally, too.”

I don’t know why, but Fola scoffs and says, “Of course you’d know about that.”

“You people can figure it out. Like I said, I don’t have a motive.” I sit down and closely watch their faces, looking for a change in expression. Waiting for a pair of eyes to lighten with realisation. But nothing. They’ve never been a clever bunch.

Aniekan shuffles papers and folders, half-heartedly searching. “It’s my head they’ll have for this, not yours, so I see why you’re uninterested. Even when you ‘mistakenly’ deleted the folder that held all our end-of-quarter reports, I was the one who got queried.”

I roll my eyes again. With the number of times I roll my eyes in this office, it’s a wonder they haven’t fallen out. Aniekan always brings that up as if it didn’t earn us a much-needed extension on our reports.

“Maybe you should ask Odafe,” I say and they all turn to me. “I saw him cleaning the table the book was on this morning. Maybe he took it.” I shrug.

Aniekan hurries out of the office and I see Fola and Shekinah—who hasn’t said a word—take off the masks of concern they had been wearing.

Odafe storms in, with Aniekan following behind. “Me? Take which book?” He asks with his hands akimbo and that dirty red rag he uses to clean every surface clutched in his fingers. 

“Is it not you I saw carrying the book outside? Abi, it's my eye?” He points at me before turning to everyone else. “Why are you people stressing yourselves? Never a day has come that this one,” he throws me a dirty glare, “has entered this office before 9 or even 10. Perpetual latecomer and on top that one you too dey lie.” He kisses his teeth and storms back out of the office.