ELENA
The clicking sound of a lady typing something on the keyboard of her computer on the corner desk felt like someone was pounding a hammer on my head. The smell coming from the direction of the coffee machine made the pasta I had eaten more than two hours ago reach the verge of my throat.
My thumb was sore and red from the forceful scratching. The already chapped cuticle bled about an hour ago, and yet I couldn't stop.
The cold metal chair numbed my bums, but I was too tensed to even move by an inch.
"Hey! Have some water, please. You haven't moved even a bit from here in the past four hours, Elena." Joanna came to sit beside me, holding a paper cup full of water.
I glanced at the water in hope that it may calm down my nerves. But even the sight of water made me want to throw up right then and there.
