Letting GoGabi Lorino
Saying goodbye to my only friend at work hit me harder than I thought it would. It seemed strange to even be in that position. Here I was in Southern California, a place known for its friendly inhabitants, and yet somehow I’d ended up in an odd, hostile working environment.
“Good luck at KP,” I said. We sat at the outdoor picnic tables near our building and enjoyed a breeze while eating our respective lunches. Karla liked all things Italian — she even drove a Fiat — so I’d brought her a big box of Toblerone as a going-away gift, and she’d allowed herself to have one piece already. “I’m jealous of you, getting to work from home. It’s gotta be better than …”
I didn’t need to finish my thought. She knew.
“How long do you think you’ll last here?” she asked.
I shrugge
