I hadn’t been into Christina’s office before. She had a reputation for holding all her meetings in the pub, over cocktails, which particularly pleased Jen, it had to be said. The office was small, about half the size of the room that I worked in, and Christina had obviously occupied the space for a long time. It was crammed full of the things she’d accomplished over the last ten years as the boss. The walls were full of certificates, each one in a plastic, faux-gold frame, most of them hanging slightly lopsided, the ink fading on them a little and the paper bleached, from facing the sun. There was a display cabinet of small, dusty-looking trophies at the back of the room, and Christina’s desk was cluttered with family portraits, novelty paperweights, piles of dog-eared paper, and coffee stains. It smelt like she’d been smoking in here all morning. I thought smoking was banned in the building…? She walked over to the window, looking out at the city. The sunlight showed up the dust in the room – I could see it floating around her body, like she was standing in mist.
