The office was silent, except for the soft hum of the computer and the faint scratching of Tina's pen against paper. The city outside stretched in pools of golden streetlight, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Tina sat in her usual corner, shoulders hunched, hair falling in a messy silver curtain over her eyes, and fingers flying over her laptop keys like they had their own agenda.
Andrew paused at the door, barely breathing, a warm thermos of milk clutched in his hands. He had almost given up hope of catching her before she fell asleep on the desk. But there she was—so absorbed in spreadsheets and emails, so impossibly focused that she didn't even hear him tiptoe across the carpeted floor.
