-POV Derby
I stayed at my desk long after Tamara had disappeared into the elevator, the thick cream invitation still resting between my fingers like something that could burn me if I held it too long. The office noise continued around me — keyboards tapping, distant conversations, the hum of the air conditioning — but none of it reached me. All I could focus on was the memory of her voice, that perfectly measured tone she had used while tearing me apart without ever raising it.
She had stood right here, smiling like we were old friends, yet every word had been chosen with surgical precision. The way she spoke was so effortless, so refined, like language itself bent to serve her. She never rushed. She never stumbled. Even when she was reminding me how young and out of place I was, it came
