Jeremy knew it was me the moment the glass door of his office opened, but he did not look up nor say something to me when I came in. He continued to fix his eyes on his tablet, studying the illustration I had just sent him.
It was fifteen minutes to seven, earlier than the time he gave me. I stood in front of his table for another minute, but he still gave me that silent treatment that I hated the most. Being in the same department for quite a long time, he seldom did that.
My hands were feeling clammy and cold, and my heart was telling me to walk away from him because Paul might call anytime to pick me up.
“I just came in to say I’m going home, Jeremy,” I uttered, almost whispering those words.
“I told you dinner’s on me,” He raised his head, not smiling, and pointing to the illus
