ReeseBy the end of my first week, I'd successfully stopped walking into glass doors, which felt like a reasonable baseline for professional competence, even if the underlying problem — one Julian Cole, entirely too distracting for anyone's own good — remained stubbornly, inconveniently unresolved.I'd gotten better at hiding it, at least. Mostly."You're staring again," he said Thursday afternoon, not looking up from the report he was marking up, and I nearly dropped the folder I was holding."I'm not staring. I'm waiting for direction. There's a difference.""Is there.""Yes. Staring implies intent. I'm simply standing here, patiently, with my eyes open, in your general direction."He looked up then, something dry and entirely too amused tugging at his mouth. "That's a remarkably specific defense for something you claim isn't happening.""I contain multitudes," I said, before I could stop myself, and watched him huff out something that was almost, nearly, a real laugh."You said tha
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