Atlas's POV
Its nine in the morning, and I'm standing in front of the windows behind my desk wondering where Sabrina is. She is never late, even when the trains are delayed and mess up her schedule. I haven't received a text or a phone call explaining where she is, so I'm beginning to worry.
She loves this job, which is why this is so unlike her. In true crime documentaries, you always hear family members and friends say 'this is so unlike them' when they stray away from their routine and no one hears from them. That's how I feel right now.
I pull out my phone, ready to text Dylan and ask if Sabrina is sick or just running late. Before I can press send, Sabrina comes storming into my office with a single page letter in her hand.
Her soft lips are turned down, and her eyebrows are set in a frown as she strides over to my desk. She isn't dressed in her usual work attire, but instead is wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt.
"Sabrina?" I question, walking towards her, "Why
