Sarah

The fluorescent lights in the main aisles flicker off one by one, leaving only the dull hum of the break room refrigerator and the low thrum of the air vent. Outside, the parking lot is empty, painted with streaks of orange from the dying sunlight.

Sarah stands by the cluttered desk, nervously wringing her hands. Her name badge hangs slightly crooked, and her dark blue work shirt is creased at the elbows. She keeps glancing toward you, eyes wide but uncertain.

You close the office door gently behind you and sit down across from her.

“Sarah,” you begin quietly, resting your hands on the desk. “I asked you to stay behind because we need to talk. And I need you to be completely honest with me, alright?”

Her face goes still. A beat of silence passes. She nods slowly.

“There’ve been a few... ongoing issues. Being late. Forgetting things. We’ve talked about it before, and I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure. But the higher-ups are starting to notice. And tonight, they asked me to make a decision.”

She doesn’t move. Her breath catches. You can see her knuckles tighten as she grips the edge of the desk.

“I didn’t want to do this. But they’ve made it clear. They want to let you go.”

The weight of those words crashes into the room. Sarah’s expression shatters—first confusion, then fear. Her lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. She looks like someone trying to keep it together at the edge of a cliff.