“Sylvia, please,” Cora began.
But her boss’s icy stare shut her down. There would be no second chances. She was done.
Fighting back tears, Cora turned and walked out of the office, the weight of her colleagues’ stares heavy on her shoulders. She kept her chin high, even as whispers followed in her wake.
“Cora?” Roger’s voice broke through the haze. He looked at her with wide-eyed concern, holding out a muffin as if it would fix everything.
She took it, though her appetite was long gone.
Vanessa stood behind the reception desk, hand over her mouth in shock.
Keith from HR approached and gripped her elbow. “I’ll walk you out.”
As they left the office, she felt the eyes of her now-former coworkers on her. Some pretended not to notice, suddenly engrossed in their computer screens. Others offered sympathetic looks that only deepened the hollow ache in her chest.
Keith didn’t stop at her desk. “Your personal items will be packed and sent to you later,” he said.
She briefly considered pocketing a stapler for the road but decided against it. With her luck, she’d trip and impale herself on it.
Moments later, they stood in the elevator. He swiped his security card, ensuring a direct ride to the lobby. The descent was endless, her mind spinning through shock, anger, and humiliation.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the bustling lobby.
Keith gave her a curt nod. “Take care, Cora.”
She stepped out, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The bright summer morning outside felt like a cruel joke compared to the storm swirling inside her. She stumbled to a nearby bench and, finally, the tears fell. As Cora cried, people hurried past on the sidewalk, oblivious to the fact that her entire life had just gone up in flames. Again.
Chapter Two
Over the next two weeks, Cora lived out the kind of cliché they only showed in bad late-night movies. Fired from her dream job, ignored by potential employers, and sinking fast into a Ben & Jerry’s-fueled pity party. Rock bottom? She was pretty sure she’d hit it face-first, cartoon-style, leaving a Cora-shaped crater in the ground.
She knew it was ridiculous to be spiraling over a job and a guy who didn’t even leave behind a decent excuse, but that didn’t make the freefall feel any less real. Without her work, she didn’t know who she was anymore. She hadn’t just built trend reports and brand decks atMorsel, she’d built her entire identity. The sleek offices, the endless deadlines, the thrill of discovering the next big thing before it hit the shelves. It was her life.
Now, surrounded by chaos, and without the anchor of her job, she was drifting. She liked rules. She liked structure. She didnotlike the pile of Snickers wrappers on her living room floor, but she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything about them.
A sharp knock rattled her apartment door, making her jump and sending a cascade of stale popcorn kernels tumbling across her lap. She glanced down at her outfit—anancient, stained T-shirt paired with threadbare monkey-print pajama bottoms that had seen better days.
“Open up, Cora. It’s Vanessa.”
She flung herself onto the floor behind the sofa. Maybe if she held her breath, her former coworker would leave.
“I know you’re in there. I can hear your murder show playing.”
Vanessa was a friend, but she wasn’t a front-row-to-the-meltdown kind of friend.
“Go away,” Cora croaked, her voice rusty from days of not speaking to anyone but the delivery guy. “I’m not fit for human consumption. I’ll call you next week, I promise!”
The door handle jiggled again, more insistent this time. “Not happening. I’m camping out here until you let me in.”
With a sigh that came from the depths of her soul, Cora pushed herself off the floor and shuffled across the room. She cracked the door open, squinting as the hallway light flooded in. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Vanessa stood in the doorway, perfectly put together, as always. She looked as if she’d just walked off the set of a fashion shoot. She was impeccably dressed, her sleek hair falling flawlessly around her shoulders, and not a smudge of makeup was out of place. She was the kind of person Cora would’ve hated on principle, if it weren’t for the fact Vanessa had a habit of sneaking her fancy coffee drinks she stole from the executive lounge atMorsel. That tiny act of rebellion had made her far too likable to resent.
She breezed past Cora, a cardboard box under one toned arm and a cloud of floral perfume trailing behind her. “Lunch break,” she said, eyeing Cora’s pajamas. “Nice outfit. I didn’t realize Dumpster Chic was trending inVoguethis season.”
Cora tugged at her shirt, grimacing at a mysterious stain. “What can I say? I’m ahead of my time.”
Vanessa snorted and dropped the box on the coffee table with a thud that made a stack of empty ice cream containersrattle. “This belongs to you. I’m supposed to be prepping your cubicle for ...” She trailed off, suddenly fascinated by the carpet’s unique popcorn kernel collection.
