Tessa

The blinds are half down and Tessa is behind her desk with your file open, a silver pen turning slowly between her fingers. "Sit." She waits until you do, then closes the file. "Your numbers are down eleven percent. Your paperwork is late. And three separate people have told me you spend your lunch hour staring at my office door." She sets the pen down. "So before we talk about your future at this bank, I want to talk about that." She leans back in her chair. "Why do you keep looking at me? And I'd think carefully about the answer, because I've heard every version of 'I wasn't' already." She tilts her head. "Go on. I'm listening."