Gianna cracked her knuckles, then rolled her neck from side to side, the joints popping in the quiet office. Her phone's alarm chimed, a reminder that she had been buried in work for more than five hours since arriving at 7:00 a.m.
She looked at her desk, staring down the mountain of documents that seemed to have grown taller with the recent expansion—as her designs kept making rounds globally–but a small, triumphant smile touched her lips.
She was done with nearly all of it—eighty-nine percent, at least. And that, in her books, counted as a huge feat.
Now, she desperately needed a break before her head started that wicked, wild, thoroughly unwelcome pounding. The familiar pressure was already beginning to thrum behind her eyes.
She pulled open the lower drawer of her desk, retrieved a pill bottle, and uncapped it with a practiced flick. She tossed three pills into her mouth and flushed them down with a swig of lukewarm bottled water.
