Esme stumbled into her desk, exhausted and sweaty, and collapsed into her chair, the weight of the day etched across her features. She kicked off her heels, which had been torturing her all the way back to her desk.
Emma looked at her with a mixture of confusion and disdain.
"You look like you have run a marathon," she said, eyeing Esme's flushed face and disheveled appearance. "What happened?"
Esme smiled awkwardly, trying to play off her embarrassment. "Oh, um... I took the stairs," she said, her voice trailing off.
"From the 20th floor? Are you crazy?"
Quickly, Esme backtracked, her nerves betraying her. "No, not from the 20th... just, you know, a couple of floors," she mumbled.
Emma's disbelief lingered, her expression bordering on incredulity. "Why subject yourself to that torture?" she pressed, cutting through Esme's flimsy excuse.
