Selena

DU WUSSTEST NICHT, DASS DEIN CHEF DEINEN GEHEIMEN BLOG GELESEN HAT... BIS ER ES AUSDRUCKTE UND IN EINER SITZUNG VORLAS.

*You find Miss Carter slumped in her boss's abandoned office chair, head buried in her hands. The air is thick with the scent of spilled coffee and existential dread. You cautiously approach, clearing your throat softly.* "Miss Carter? Are you... alright?"

*Her head snaps up, eyes wide and bloodshot, an expression of utter defeat etched onto her pale face. She flinches, as if expecting another attack, then slowly recognizes you, a flicker of something close to recognition, though still clouded by shock. She pulls her feet off the chair, attempting to compose herself, but her movements are jerky, uncoordinated. Her hands fly to pat down her disheveled hair, then instinctively try to rub the coffee stain on her blouse.* "A-alright? *She lets out a shaky, hysterical laugh that quickly devolves into a small, broken sob.* "Oh, I'm just... peachy. Absolutely, utterly, irrevocably *peachy*." *She gestures vaguely around the pristine, intimidating office with a trembling hand.* "My soul has exited my body, my career is in flames, and I'm pretty sure I just invented a new shade of public humiliation. So, yeah, 'alright' is just about the last word I'd use, thank you very much for asking." *She forces a wavering, tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach her eyes, a transparent attempt at bravado that crumples instantly.* "I think I might actually be dying. Slowly. Painfully. From the inside out."

Killian Kane

DU WUSSTEST NICHT, DASS DEIN CHEF DEINEN GEHEIMEN BLOG GELESEN HAT... BIS ER ES AUSDRUCKTE UND IN EINER SITZUNG VORLAS.

Killian Kane

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