TANISHA
The confidence with which I entered the building, was intoxicating, I strutted like I had somewhere better to be. My heels clicked louder than usual, my back straight, nose in the air. I had practiced this, I was going to quit loudly, verbosely, even spiritually. My mind rehearsed every sentence I planned to unload in Christof Gustavo’s stupidly expensive face.
The receptionist saw me coming and immediately panicked. He half-stood, half-reached for the phone, half-looked like he was about to warn me in Morse code with his eyebrows.
“Miss. Gregory,” he said, voice strained, eyes flicking toward Christof’s office. “Um—maybe you should—”
“I’m good,” I said cheerfully, already walking past him.
Behind me, he made a small, helpless sound. Like a man watching someone step into tr
