Seraphina's Point Of View
The clock on the wall seemed to tick in slow motion, each second dragging as if mocking us while we buried ourselves beneath the mountain of paperwork that accumulated toward the end of every week. The office had fallen quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional frustrated sigh drifting from Mark's corner.
Only the core team remained… me, Rose, Mark, Vanessa, and Victor huddled together in the soft, amber glow of our desk lamps, a small island of productivity in the darkened office. Outside the windows, the city lights had begun to twinkle, a reminder that the world beyond these walls had already moved on to Friday night pleasures.
"If I see one more shipping manifest today," Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes until his glasses sat crookedly on his nose, "I might actually try to mail myself to a tropical island."
