Grant

“What else is there to talk about?” I muttered as I started shutting down my screen, dragging my hand through my hair.

Mark hovered by the corner of my desk, flipping through notes like he hadn’t heard me, or was stalling. His voice was low, barely a breath. “I haven’t finalized the full agenda for this morning…”

“You should’ve done that already.” I didn’t mean for it to sound sharp, but it cut anyway.

Mark stiffened.

“It’s seven in the morning,” he shot ...