Elara's smoking had reached a point of no return. Her lungs felt heavy, and her chest was being squeezed by iron bands that tightened every time she took a breath. When the smoke wasn't enough, she reached for alcohol, but even the strongest liquor couldn't dull the edge of her temper.
She tried her best to stay sharp, to stay the same person the world expected her to be, but the irritation inside her didn't subside in the slightest but fanned instead.
She felt dangerous. She felt like she was one wrong word, one accidental glance away from throwing a punch at anyone who looked at her.
She crushed an empty cigarette pack in her hand, the plastic crinkling loudly in the silent office, and tossed it into the trash. She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, then leaned forward to scan the mountain of paperwork on her desk.
There was so much to do.
