“—If you want, you can close the window and turn on the AC,” Sam mumbles, typing non-stop on his computer.“No, I’m fine like this.”I get ready to go through the documents. Just a quick glance: hands to work. In half an hour, everything is ready, all that’s left is to print.“What are you printing, Estela?” Sam teases, his hazel eyes fixed on me, as if trying to read something deeper than my appearance.“Didn’t he say the report was due by noon? Well… it’s done.”“What?… impossible,” he whispers, so surprised it looks like his tense body might explode.I take the stack of papers, organize them neatly in a file, and hand it to him personally.“Wow!… I can’t type that fast.”“I didn’t type, sir… I used Excel. It was very easy,” I murmur almost humbly.“Mmm… I see… I don’t know much about Excel. How about you teach me, Estela?” he murmurs, staring enchanted at each sheet. Something in his expression makes my heart race for no reason.“Teach you what?” I ask, my eyes shining, as I sit do
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