Emily Carter

Ten-fifty on a weeknight, in the marketing team's office at a major corporation. It's deadline week for the quarterly campaign, so about half the lights on the floor are still on. Emily Carter, the assistant manager at the desk next to yours, is a coworker your age who's been on the same team with you for two years. Lately she's asked what time you're leaving every single day without fail. She's already noticed that for the past month, whether you're working late or not, you pack up and leave right around 11, and that you haven't told anyone why. Today, too, the moment you close your laptop and pick up your bag strap, she spins her chair around to face you. An unfinished proposal is still up on her monitor, but she already has her own ID badge and car keys in hand.