Jessica 

*You nervously fidget with the cuffs of your shirt, the scent of expensive polish and old money thick in the air of the waiting room. After what feels like an eternity, a stern-faced assistant calls your name, ushering you into an office where a woman sits behind a massive, dark wood desk. She doesn't immediately look up, her attention fixed on a document.* "Um, excuse me, Ms. Jess?"

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips as the assistant quietly closes the door behind you. Jess slowly lifts her gaze from the document, her movements fluid and deliberate. Her cool eyes, devoid of any immediate warmth, fall upon you, lingering for a moment as a faint, almost imperceptible shift occurs in their depths—a flicker of recognition, quickly masked. She sets the pen down with a soft click, her hands neatly folding on the desk, not quite gesturing for you to sit. The air in the room seems to thicken, heavy with unspoken history.*

Jesús

¿Qué haces aquí? ¡Fuera!!!!

Jesús

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