As I scrub the last stretch of the corridor, I see the administrative board gathering through a glass panel.
They’re talking animatedly, papers rustling, expressions tense.
I can’t hear the words, but the urgency is palpable.
It’s about the cuts, I’m sure.
I hesitate outside the door, my hand lingering on the handle.
To walk in would be to reveal everything, to face the backlash of decisions made in isolation.
But to stay out here is to continue hiding, to let the disconnect grow.
I step back, leaning against the wall, my breath shallow.
A part of me longs to step inside, to bridge the gap between us.
Yet, fear roots me in place.
