NATALIE
I leaned closer to the mirror, lipstick in one hand, nerves in the other.
My lips were already painted, but I went over them again—maybe for courage, maybe just to feel like I had control over something.
My blazer felt too stiff across my shoulders, like even my clothes weren’t convinced I belonged in them today.
Still, I straightened the lapels like I hadn’t cried in Joanne’s bathroom twenty minutes ago, then stared at myself, searching for the version of me who used to walk into work like I owned the place.
“You’ve survived worse,” I whispered to my reflection.
The words felt like a lie. But a necessary one.
“This is just a job. These are just people.”
I took a breath so deep it hurt my ribs, then held it for a second. Long enough to try and anchor myself.
I was stay
