Mia's POV;
I can't feel my left foot anymore.
My toes stopped functioning somewhere between the sixth cup of coffee and the tenth round of redesigning Adrian's smug face off the PR deck. My spine gave up too. Then my sanity.
The office is dead silent except for the occasional groan of the air conditioner, like even it's also exhausted and wants to quit. Everyone else has left for their homes long ago. The cleaning crew also came and left. The only other soul possibly still awake in the building is the ghost of my earlier ambition.
The soft electronic sound from my laptop keeps me company, illuminating my face with a pale glow like I'm auditioning for a zombie film. Grabbing my caramel macchiato, I take a sip but immediately make a face. The coffee is ice cold. Like Adrian's emails. Lik
