The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to amplify the silence. Sarah sat across from him, this fresh-faced kid, ready to inherit the spreadsheets, the deadlines, the endless cycle. She pointed to a line of code, her finger tracing the path a single cell's data would take. A sigh escaped her, a puff of air that seemed to carry years of built-up frustration. She wondered if he knew what he was getting into.
The coffee in her mug was cold, but she didn’t bother to take a sip. The metallic taste of the office had soured her appetite, too. A sharp pain bloomed in her temples; the familiar ache of a headache coming on. It was a symptom of all the late nights, the missed dinners, the quiet desperation she had come to know so well. She wished she had taken more time for herself, but the weeks had just kept rolling past.
"Alright, so that's the basics of the inventory system," she said, her voice flat. She tried to smile, but it felt forced, a contortion of her face that didn't reach her eyes. The young man, bright and eager, scribbled furiously in his notebook. She felt a pang of… something. Was it envy? Regret? A dull sort of disappointment.