The invite hit my calendar at 8:07.
Subject: Role Transition Touchpoint.
Four names on it. My manager. HR. Ifeoma. Me. Thirty minutes. Glass room.
Maya rolled into my row like a weather report with legs. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” I said.
She looked at the subject line, whistled low, and set a coffee down like a talisman. “Get it in writing.” Make them pick real words.
The conference room smelled like dry erase and citrus. HR led with the tone people use for dental work. “We’re proposing a temporary reassignment,” she said. “Thirty days.” Reduced visibility. Internal work only. The optics—”
“Stop,” I said. “Say the reason plainly.”
My manager cleared his throat. “The building’s still buzzing from… last week.” We want to limit distractions. It isn’t disciplinary.
“Then it won’t t
