EVIE’S POV
The morning passed surprisingly quickly.
For once, nothing exploded.
No awkward conversations.
No emotional landmines.
No accidental discoveries hidden inside anonymous manuscripts.
Just work.
Actual work.
I spent most of the morning buried in manuscript notes whilst attempting to plan out ideas for the dystopian fiction assignment Alexander had set me.
Every time I thought I’d settled on an idea, another one appeared.
Apparently my brain had decided this was the perfect opportunity to become creative.
Typical.
Across the office, Alexander worked through meetings, emails and phone calls with the efficiency of somebody who had been doing this for far too long.
Occasionally he’d ask my opinion on something.
Occasionally I’d ask a question.
Otherwise, the day moved q
