At quarter to twelve, a woman from the adjacent department walked over and dropped another armful of documents onto the already-groaning pile.
"Manager Zeke says these need to be done too."
Sacha stared at the new stack. Something inside her, some thin, load-bearing wire that had been holding everything together for years, vibrated dangerously.
"He's gone too far."
The words came out louder than she'd intended. Harder. The woman who'd delivered the files took a small step backward.
Sacha gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles white, her eyes burning, and forced herself to breathe.
She couldn't quit. She couldn't fight. She couldn't cry, not here, not in front of the security cameras that Zeke was almost certainly watching from his office.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, She picked up the next folder.
... The door to the office opened at ten past twelve.
