I sat at my cluttered work desk, the bright glare of my computer screen adding to the tension that was causing my eye to twitch. As a marketing executive, my days were packed with back-to-back meetings, campaign planning, and endless emails. Today was no different, and I silently begged the clock to move faster. I couldn't wait for the lunch break to finally check the message from my high school friend, Robert.My office space was a mixture of organized chaos: colorful post-it notes stuck to the edges of my monitor, a half-empty coffee cup, and stacks of marketing reports awaiting my attention. My boss, Ms. Marlene Thatcher, had been particularly irritable lately, scrutinizing every minor detail with an unforgiving eye. Ms. Thatcher was an older woman with sharp features and a stern expression that seemed permanently etched into her face. Her salt-and-pepper hair was always pulled back into a severe bun, and her eyes, a cold steel gray, missed nothing. She had a reputation for being s
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