The oppressive heat of the hotel lounge clung to Connie like her tight business skirt, a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the afternoon's ordeal. Her reflection in the polished bar mirror showed a woman on the verge of unraveling, a pallor that spoke volumes to anyone who knew her. Her PA, Dee, ever observant, leaned in.

"Connie! You look like you have seen a ghost!"

Connie managed a weak, dismissive wave. "A ghost would be fine, Dee. I could put it down to too much cheese or a raunchy kipper." The truth, however, would have ignited a blush far more revealing than her current ghostly hue. She moved closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's much worse than a ghost. I'll tell you later. It's too public here."

Dee, instead of hailing a waiter, simply took Connie's hand and navigated them through the celebrating engineers, who were too pleasantly drunk to notice anything beyond their backsides, towards two vacant stools at the bar. The familiar hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses provided a thin veil for the storm brewing within Connie. She hooked herself onto the stool, hiking her skirt up her thighs, feeling a profound sense of 'this is not me.' The sodas arrived, and Dee, wasting no time, cut straight to the chase.