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Agathe slid into her temporary cubicle at Tiluma and cringed at the squeak of her chair beneath her. The nerve-grating sound added to the heaviness already dragging at her tummy. Today, of all days, she needed every last ounce of strength to survive the next eight hours at work.
She had plans to observe employees, get progress updates from anyone willing to talk, and corner Max so she could check on how his management training was doing. All while fighting an overwhelming need to c***k.
Because all she truly wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.
The gnawing at her stomach grew. The band pressing at her ribcage tightened, not letting up since she’d opened her eyes this morning, and certainly not now that the date on the calendar to her left glared back at her.
June twenty-third
