For Sierra, the grocery store was the perfect place to decompress. After the frantic energy of the Ispire offices and the mounting, unspoken tension between her and Theron, wandering the aisles of The Good Harvest was the only thing keeping her grounded. She stood in the pasta aisle, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she debated the merits of artisanal linguine versus the standard fusilli.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the vibration startling her. She pulled it out, her heart doing a small, traitorous flip when she saw the caller ID.
"Mr. Leopold?" she answered, her voice naturally softening.
"Sierra." His voice sounded heavy. "Where are you? I stopped by your apartment, but your neigbour said you already went out."
"I'm just at The Good Harvest," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyperaware of the echo in the pasta aisle.
He was at her apartment?
