June

As the elevator slides open, I see Mr. Grande stepping out from his private one. Our eyes meet.

Just great. The exact person I want to see.

"I just finished shredding the—" I begin, but of course, he cuts in.

"I have the internal review in a few minutes. I assume you prepared the file correctly? No typos?" he says, checking his watch instead of looking at me.

A storm brews in my stomach — frustration, humiliation, a flicker of resentment.

Oh, I’ve got the perfect damn ...