Zara
I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I stepped out of the coffee shop on the ground floor of the office building. The late afternoon sun filtered through the glass doors, casting long shadows across the marble lobby.
My shift at the marketing firm had dragged on longer than usual…endless meetings about quarterly reports that made my eyes glaze over. All I wanted now was to head home, kick off my heels, and sink into a bath. The elevator bank was just ahead, a row of shiny steel doors humming softly with the faint buzz of machinery.
As I approached, the doors to one elevator slid open with a ding. I quickened my pace, not wanting to wait for the next one. Inside, a man stood alone, his broad back to me as he checked his phone.
He was tall, dressed in a crisp button-do
