Selena left the office at three sharp. Someone laughed down by the elevators—too loud for a Tuesday—then caught themselves and dropped it to a whisper as she passed. She kept her gaze forward, kept her stride even. Amanda had offered to come with her, but Selena declined. It was a routine monthly checkup. That was what she'd told herself, anyway. Routine.
The elevator smelled faintly like citrus cleaner and someone's cologne. Her reflection in the brushed steel doors looked exactly how she'd prepared herself to look: crisp blouse, hair pinned back, face composed. You'd never know from looking that the skin under her collarbone felt tight; that her palms were damp. By the time the elevator slid to the lobby, she'd pressed any stray thoughts into the neat, flat shape of to-do lists. After the appointment: review the vendor contracts. Email Hammad Smith's team to clarify the third-quarter forecasting assumptions. Ask IT why the budget portal kept timing out.
