Sarah
"Hi, Ms. Mitchell!" the woman greeted me, her voice tinged with relief and a hint of embarrassment. She was a brunette with intelligent hazel eyes, probably older than me by a couple of years, dressed in a crisp navy blazer and matching pencil skirt. "I'm really sorry. Here's your identification," she added, handing me the sleek, laminated card.
"Thank God! You're here!" I approached her and introduced myself. "I'm Sarah Mitchell. Just call me Sarah."
" Emily!" We shook hands. I should have waited for you in the lobby to prevent any problems. I'm genuinely sorry for the inconvenience."
We entered the building together. The three receptionists stood at their posts, avoiding eye contact with Mr. Johnson. The president glanced at me while the three widened their eyes, clearly terri
