~*JUNE*~
As I step toward the glass doors, they slide open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.
I cross the lobby, take the elevator up, and head to my desk, where I settle into the chair.
It’s more luxurious than my old one, bigger, sleeker, but it feels empty. Lonely.
There’s no one to talk to.
The only person around is a security guard at the far end, slumped in his chair with his chin on his chest, never missing a chance to sleep on the job.
I pull out my phone and stare at the messages I don’t want to read.
"Hello, Miss June," an unfamiliar voice says.
I look up.
A middle-aged woman is walking toward me. Her blonde hair is pulled back so tightly it looks like it’s fighting to escape.
Her blazer is pressed, her lips painted the color of a fresh wound.
She stops in front
