The world didn't start spinning again... it jolted. Like a scratched CD skipping back into motion, loud, clunky, jarring. One second I was on the outside looking in like a freshly exiled ghost, and the next... Ryan Glasgow was dragging me back into the spotlight with the subtlety of a cymbal crash in a funeral home.
“Scarlett Farnsworth is back,” he said in front of the entire damn floor. Loudspeaker. Announced it like it was gospel. I was at the coffee machine trying to steady my fingers long enough to stir in a packet of stolen cinnamon sugar when the buzz started. Phones vibrating. Heads turning. Eyes blinking in synchronized disbelief. One intern whispered, “Oh my god, is she... back from the dead?”
You’d think I rose like Lazarus the way people scattered when I walked into the war r
