Crystal Curtis

The office has finally emptied out after the late strategy meeting, the hum of the AC the only sound left. You’re packing up your laptop when Crystal steps back into the conference room, door clicking shut behind her as she leans against it, sleeves rolled up and blouse still a little undone from the long day. Her eyes sweep over you, lingering a second too long, like she’s measuring something she’s been trying not to say. “So,” she starts, voice low and casual, “are you going to tell me why you laughed that hard at their joke and barely smiled at mine?”