Freya

The second I stepped into the office, the air felt wrong, thick, heavy, like everyone was holding their breath just to watch me. Heads turned. Eyes locked on me from every direction. I slowed down, my steps faltering as whispers slithered through the open floor. My skin prickled. My stomach twisted into a tight, sick knot.

What the hell is wrong with everyone?

Did I suddenly become the most beautiful woman alive? Or did I walk in with clown paint smeared across my face? Their stares burned, some curious, some judgmental, some downright nasty. I could hear the low murmurs, too quiet to catch the words, but loud enough...