The Weight of Paper
Elara felt trapped. The room seemed to close in around her the walls, the desk, the air itself
pressing against her chest like a fist. She rose from her chair slowly, as though her body hadn’t
yet decided whether to believe what her eyes had just read.
This can’t be true.
She moved without thinking, pacing the length of her office, back and forth, back and forth, the
rhythm of it the only thing keeping her upright. And then she stopped. She turned to look at
Victor, who sat with the particular stillness of a man who had prepared himself for exactly this
moment.
“Do you think” she began, but her voice fractured at the edges. She steadied herself.
“I don’t
believe you. Not a single word of this. This is bullshit, Victor, and I want you to know that I intend
to
