Word spread that Isabelle had been crying and talking on the phone by the back door for over an hour. Little did she know, the glass in the back door restroom was one-way—one could see out, but not in.
Every colleague who went to the restroom after lunch caught a glimpse of her meltdown.
The small group chat without managers blew up with 99+ messages—some venting, some laughing at her misfortune.
An hour later, Isabelle returned to her desk, her eyes swollen red from crying.
By the end of the day, everyone else had left, leaving her alone in the dark office, surrounded by mountains of files she still hadn't sorted.
*****
Fresh out of the shower, I sat in the living room scrolling through my phone when the sound of the fingerprint scanner beeping cut through the silence.
Instantly, I
