The trouble with small kindnesses was that they rarely stayed small.
Ronda understood that now.
A note slipped into her file.
A bottle of water left on her desk.
A worksheet handed over before she asked.
A printed guide for the accounting path she had only spoken about once.
Individually, each gesture could be explained away.
Together, they formed something harder to dismiss.
And perhaps that was why Vivian chose that week to stop smiling from a distance and speak plainly.
By Thursday morning, the rain had cleared and the city had returned to its usual heat and impatience. Buses were full again. Conductors shouted as though volume could create space where none existed. The roads carried the same mixture of hurry and resignation they always did.
Ronda arrived at the firm a little
