Work has been a disaster. Nothing is going right for anyone. H-- has reached an all-time high stress level, but I think that has everything to do with her homelife. I’m not myself, either.
On Friday afternoon, she approached me at my desk with an idea. “Let’s get a room in the city,” she said. “I can’t go home tonight.”
I tossed a ball of paper into the trash. “We can stay at my place.”
She crossed her arms. “I was thinking a hotel. Something romantic.”
I tossed another ball into the trash. “I’ll make dinner. Something with a salad.”
H-- brought a hand to her mouth, her elbow still resting on...
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