CHRISTOF
When Pepa left, the office returned to order, or at least the illusion of it. I stood where I was, breathing evenly, rearranging my thoughts the way I always did when anger threatened to become inefficient. I moved behind my desk, hands braced against the polished surface, waiting.
Tanisha came in minutes later. She didn’t look at me, not once. Her eyes roamed the office instead, the walls, the shelves, the shattered remains of the vase still scattered near the corner. Her posture was stiff, jaw tight, like she was holding herself together with sheer will.
For some reason that annoyed me.
“Do you understand,” I began, “what it means to be absent when people depend on you?”
Her shoulders stiffened. Still no eye contact.
“I had calls unanswered. Meetings stacked on top of e
