I am good at my actual job. The quiet one. The one that happens behind the scenes.
I open my document and start fixing a paragraph that has too many commas. Something familiar. Something safe.
Still, part of me listens for Marie-Louise’s door opening.
Waiting to see if yesterday follows me into today.
Chapter 6
Ava
Itry to timeit so I can walk past Marie-Louise’s office without being noticed.
Not in an obvious way. Nothing suspicious. Just a slight adjustment of pace. A file held up like a shield. The quiet hope that if I look busy enough I might become invisible.
Unfortunately Marie-Louise has the observational skills of a hawk.
She spots me immediately.
She’s on the phone, one hand pressed to her temple, the other already motioning me inside.
I freeze for half a second.
Then I walk in.
There is no graceful way to refuse that gesture.
I sit down in the chair opposite her desk while she continues the call, her finger raised slightly to signalone moment. I fold my hands together in my lap and try to look like someone who belongs in editorial offices.
“Yes,” she says into the phone. “No, I understand that… yes… yes I do.”
A pause.
“No, that is not the issue. The issue is that I need to understand why.”
Another pause.
I try not to listen.
I fail.
“Yes, but that’s highly unusual,” she continues. “We don’t normally agree to conditions like that… no… because that isn’t how journalism works.”
I wonder if the owner of the newspaper is demanding more cuts to our budget. He is always after more stories for less money.
“That may be,” she says, her voice calmer now, “but I still need a reason that makes sense from my side.”
A longer pause this time.
Her eyes flick to me briefly. Assessing. Measuring.
Then back to whatever she’s seeing on her screen.
“I see,” she says slowly.
Another pause.
“Well… yes. I can understand why that might appeal to him.”
