what it felt like to survive instead of live.
Finally she shrugged.
“It is what it is.”
I recognized that sentence.
People say it when they’ve been carrying too much for too long.
I stood up.
“Wait here.”
Charlotte looked confused.
I disappeared into my office.
When I returned, I carried a folder.
She frowned.
“What’s that?”
“A business proposal.”
She blinked.
“What?”
I handed it to her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Inside were documents.
Employment papers.
Healthcare benefits.
Salary information.
Charlotte’s eyes widened.
Then widened again.
Then a third time.
The
