My elbows rested on the brown surface of my office desk, my fingers locked together beneath my jaw.
For the past twenty minutes, my attention had been deeply buried on the bank statement that my account manager had just sent a while ago.
“I can't believe I made these unnecessary expenses,” I muttered to myself. “I really have to work on my spending lifestyle.”
I drummed my anxious nails on the table, trying hard to make sense of everything I was seeing on the screen.
Every line of the statement was an expense I recognised, but never did I expect it all to amount to this.
The office door suddenly flung open and Zara walked in carrying her iPad.
She was dressed in a lavender, matching the black shoe she wore and the white long-sleeved shirt which had tiny patterns of pink flowers scat
