CARLOTTA
I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the papers in front of me. My mind was elsewhere, still reeling from the events of the previous day. I couldn't believe that someone had slapped me in a cafe, just for not seeing someone, who the hell did I not see when returned. The shock and anger were still simmering beneath the surface, and I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of unease.
As I sat there, lost in thought, the door to my office burst open and my daughter, Klara, walked in. My eyes snapped back into focus, and I felt a surge of surprise and concern.
"Klara, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in school," I said, trying to hide the worry from her voice.
Klara flopped down in the chair in front of my desk, looking like she owned the place. "I know, Mom, but the
