I'm sitting at the head of the conference table, waiting for the next designer candidate to walk in. The door opens. I look up, then I just smirk. Her, of course. The woman who doused me in macchiato walks in, unaware she’s about to pitch to the man she stained. She stops, eyes widen. Recognition hits.
"Miss Macchiato, we meet again." my smirk grows wider.She blinks like she’s glitching. I lean back in my chair, watching her unravel. This meeting just got a whole lot more interesting.
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