The reception area of the building was too quiet for a Friday night. The polished marble floors gleamed like they’d never seen dirt. The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, their reflection sharp on the glass walls. Iris shifted uneasily in her seat, the strap of her bag twisted tight around her fingers. Her father had told her to wait downstairs while he finished “a quick meeting.” But thirty minutes had passed. Then forty. The clock above the elevators ticked loud enough to make her jaw tense.
Her father didn’t belong in places like this. He was a kind man. Gentle. Too trusting. He didn’t have the kind of spine these cold corridors required. She hated the thought of him staying behind with people who wore suits that probably cost more than their monthly rent. She stood up, smooth
