After the early hours of pretending like the other person didn't exist in the room, 9:00 a.m. finally struck.
The first client arrived exactly on time.
Mary had led her in with her usual grumpy efficiency, and a moment later the office door clicked shut.
Annabelle.
Drogo's brows arched slightly. The young lady looked smaller than he remembered.
With her white skin dusted with freckles, her brown hair pulled back too tightly; her frame was thin with lanky limbs folded inward like she was trying to take up less space than she already did. Dressed in an oversized cardigan and pleated skirt, the thick glasses filled most of her face.
Drogo grimaced. Her usual nervous posture.
• • •
Annabelle sat on the client sofa and immediately began twisting her fingers together, pressing her knuckles white with her knees angled inward. She hunched her shoulders slightly.
Silence lingered.
