Her panic was almost instant.
She began pacing the lobby in frantic circles, running her hands through her hair and muttering under her breath. Her movements were so erratic, so exaggerated, that she looked like a pitiful little puppy who'd just been scolded.
"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" She blurted, her voice trembling. "I fell asleep! I didn't finish anything! The guests will be here soon, and I-"
Her pacing turned chaotic as she tried to decide where to start, her eyes darting toward the counter, then the doors, then the shelves.
Her breathing quickened, her shoulders shaking slightly under the weight of her growing panic. I could see it—the overwhelming stress, the guilt, and the helplessness building until it looked like she might cry.
"Nina..." I said casually, leaning back against the counter with the most nonchalant expression I could muster.
