ion Th

s's

. He speaks in a calm voice, but the way he tal

shocked for a sec

't you? From your temp work to this p

ked me anything personal, until today. My mind is racing to find

e of myself. "I have to make money." It's costly to tak

whole time. The way he listens makes me uneasy. He seems to be read

your job?" in a light but stern voice. "

prodding at something I don't want to

," I answer, attempting

that calculating look. He is looking for my flaws by re

, Lois?" he says, his v

ng. How does he know? I can't help it; my h

hands automatically start to fumble with the papers in front of me. Alex's look is like a heavy bla

Alex's voice is calm and steady, cutting through the

u mean," I say, trying

ice that is just above a whisper. "I can

a complement or a challenge. My instincts tell me to keep my cool and put

yes for a second. And t

through me, and all of a sudden, I can't breathe. It's not just that he's there anymore; it's a force, like gra

my heart pounding in my ears. My hands

ou?" he asks, sounding like he's mocking

s for a second. It's something I can't r

sound of my keyboard clacking against the peaceful hum of the workplace feels too loud as I type. The pressu

hough he's not there. I attempt to ignore the feeling that others are watching me and

h to settle down. But then I see a shado

ex

merely watches me with his piercing eyes. I can't read him or figure out what he's thinking.

ove. "Lois, you're working hard.

se me, and my he

an see through the mask I've been painstakingly putting on. He's te

ck. Every part of me wants to get away, but I can't move. I ca

it hard to breathe and strong. I can't ge

king out the window at the city below. His back is straight, and the suit fits his wi

it's been like this: the tension between us has been getting worse and my feelings

t feels like the walls are closing in on me. I feel dizzy

en. The floor is

y hands are sweaty. I take a deep breath, but it doesn

oi

but it slices through the b

yes fixed on me. His steps are slow and steady as he

take a

it worse in some way. He isn't

ng-before I can say anything. The contact sends a sh

oftly. His fingers don't move. The pressure is light

ension in the room; it's thick enough to taste. I can feel the weight

n't pul

t attempting to console me in the way I thought he would, but nevertheless I f

is still calm, but there's something else there

t to say. Even when the air conditioner

d I can feel how much space he takes up and how m

" he urges, and his tone makes it cle

glass against my fingertips som

m there, like a shadow over me. I'm not sure

owing just a little. It's like he's watching me an

all of a sudden, his voice get

eak. I'm stuck between the need to fight and the overwh