Draft Between Us

I THINK I'M GOING TO GET FIRED." Gwen lifts her gaze up from her planner and sets her pen aside as Mirabel heads for her desk, shrugging her purse from her shoulder, yet saying nothing. A thin ribbon of sweat trails down her neck, and her blazer is draped over the back of her chair because the heat has been cranked to almost infernal levels. Lenora, across the hall, gets the blame for that. Mirabel wishes she could sweat and still look this polished. Even with the floor feeling like an oven, Gwen Pierce somehow makes it seem manageable, not one hair out of place. Mirabel, meanwhile, has to blot the sting of sweat off her forehead and throat with a paper tissue before she sits (and she is doing her best not to dwell on the marks under her arms). Gwen has a way of making everything seem effortless, if we're honest, and although Mirabel has worked at Harbor Ledger far longer, it's hardly shocking that the two of them make a solid team. She's simply too kind and too eager to please. "Can you remind me I'll never have enough money to buy this magazine and then politely complain to HR about the heating?" Gwen says at last while Mirabel twists her hair into a sloppy bun. "Because the disasters you predict never actually happen." Mirabel scowls, drops into her chair, and powers up her computer. "What was it now?"