There was a pause.
“Your camera is off.”
“I know.”
“Do you want it off?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
No questions.
No pressure.
Just okay.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m dealing with something at home.”
“I gathered that.”
“I’m still doing the transition call.”
“No.”
I blinked.
“Cynthia—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
She continued.
“You’ve earned this promotion. It isn’t disappearing because you take one morning.”
“I can work.”
“I know you can. That’s not the same as needing to.”
I leaned back in my chair.
There were people who mistook endurance for strength.
The sound.
Eleanor in the doorway.
The hair on the sheets.
Their demand that I quit my job.
When I finished, the document was nearly three pages long.
I saved it in a secure cloud folder.
Then I sat very still.
Because seeing the events written in plain language made them harder to minimize.
