I work here.

The way she stands—it’s not just still, it’s posed.Like someone arranged her and walked away.

I nod slowly.“Right.Cool.”

She doesn’t ask my name.Doesn’t ask what I do.Doesn’t even seem curious about me at all.

Something about it unsettles me.

“Well,” I say, lifting my coffee in some vague attempt at camaraderie.“Happy Tuesday.”

She hesitates, as though she’s waiting for a cue.After a beat, she nods—slow, deliberate—like she’s just figured out the right response

“Happy Tuesday,” she echoes.

And then she leaves.

I stand there for a moment, watching the break room door swing shut behind her.

That was…weird.

I don’t know what’s wrong with her.

But something is.For starters, it’s Monday.Not Tuesday.She didn’t bother or care to correct me.

I take my coffee back to my desk, still thinking about the interaction, trying to shake it.

Maybe she’s just one of those overly polite, corporate-lifer types—the kind of person who’s had so much company training that normal conversation feels like a board-approved press release.

Who knows?

I’m still turning it over when my screen lights up with another email.

From: Andra

Subject: Daily Priorities

Lena,

You have access to Mr.Harrison’s correspondence now.Review today’s brief and confirm that everything is in order before it reaches his desk.

You will be expected to handle sensitive information with discretion.

Let me know if you have questions.

- Andra

I hesitate before clicking the attachment.

Access to his correspondence.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

Now, I’m flying a little less blind.

It’s tough to act as an executive assistant when no one tells you exactly what’s expected of you and your access to information is limited at best.It’s like going around in circles and ending up in the same spot.

I open the file.It’s a set of notes—meeting summaries, travel confirmations, financials I don’t fully understand yet.I skim through, clicking mindlessly past the usual corporate nonsense.