In the break room, she made a cup of hand-brewed mocha just like before.
It didn't take too long, and when she went to the president's office again, he hadn't left yet.
The sun was setting, with the evening glow filling the sky, the orange sunset like a duck egg, rosy and tempting, making one want to take a bite.
The light spread over the entire city, dyeing the skyscrapers with a layer of orange-red glow.
The temperature had dropped, the lush green of the leaves contrasted interestingly with the orange, and every casual glance was a beautiful landscape.
Sylvan Cheney was exceptionally focused on his work, and Jasmine Yale carefully set down the cup.
The aroma wafted over, and Sylvan Cheney looked up; he glanced at Jasmine Yale, "I don't like coffee, take it away."
"Then pour it out, it's okay."
Having said that, Jasmine Yale left.
It's okay to pour it out, just don't do it in her face.
Sylvan Cheney glanced at her hastily departing figure and let out a cold laugh.
