POV: Lina
I spend the morning filling out forms and answering emails, but deep down I'm just waiting for something to explode.
And it does.
Not with a bomb or a scream, but with a calendar message at eleven o'clock: "Short interview—collaboration opportunity." Room six. Coordination.
Interview. Opportunity. Now.
I look at the empty space next to my desk, where Aurora should be complaining about the coffee. The "don't mention Vega" email is still stuck in my inbox. My radar is buzzing.
"Are you going?" María asks over the monitor.
"No, I'm going to hide in the bathroom until I retire," I reply. "Of course I'm going."
Room six is small. A table, two chairs, a glass of water. On the other side is Ignacio, the same one from yesterday's "alignment," this time with a folder.
"Lina, thank you for coming again," he says. "Don't worry, this isn't a reprimand."
"Not yet?" I ask, sitting down.
He laughs as if he appreciates the joke. I don't believe him.
