Seraphina's Point Of View
For two whole days, Rose's desk had been completely empty. No neat stacks of color-coded folders, no fresh steam rising from her ridiculous oversized coffee mug, and absolutely zero sign of her standard, comforting morning greeting. The silence of that corner of the office had become its own kind of presence, heavy and wrong, pressing against me every time I glanced over.
Her phone wasn't just ringing out; it was going straight to voicemail like the number didn't even exist anymore. I must have listened to that same cheerful recorded message a dozen times, each time hoping to hear her pick up instead, and each time feeling the disappointment settle a little deeper into my chest.
By the seventh call, I'd started bargaining with myself… just one more try, just one more, as if sheer persistence could conjure her voice on the other end.
