I rode public transportation with my head down, one hand pressed against my temple, trying not to throw up. All I wanted was my bed, darkness, silence.
When I opened my apartment door, I heard voices. Loud voices. Laughter.
My stomach dropped.
I stepped inside, shoes still on, purse slipping from my shoulder, and followed the sound down the hall toward what used to be my office.
The door was open.
Vanessa sat at my desk with two friends. My work laptop, the company laptop I guarded like a precious animal, was open in front of them. They weren’t just sitting near it. They were using it. One friend leaned in, clicking something, while Vanessa laughed, pointing at the screen.
“What are you doing?” I asked, and my voice came out sharper than I intended.
All three looked up. Vanessa blinked, as if my presence was an inconvenience.
“We’re just watching something,” she said.
