TANISHA
I was ninety percent sweat, nine percent spite, and one percent will to live. My smile had fossilized on my face hours ago. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to relax my jaw again. Thank the universe, the event had finally come to an end.
Christof breezed through the crowd like royalty, and I trailed behind him like a wraith. Taking notes, collecting business cards, emails, little scraps of conversations. Basically functioning as a very overqualified USB drive. Every time someone laughed too hard at something unfunny, I felt my soul trying to escape through my ears.
I pressed my lips into polite curves so many times I was convinced I’d sprain a facial muscle Inside, I abhorred every microsecond of it. Every back-patting tech bro, every “circle back” conversation. Every time P
