Then she whispered, "Oh, girl..."
For a moment, all I could hear was the beeping.
It bounced off the walls, sharp and endless, while the woman in front of me looked like she had accidentally stepped into the middle of her own nightmare.
My throat went dry. "What does that mean?"
She pressed her lips together and looked toward the elevator doors, as if rescue might arrive before she had to answer.
"Please," I said, gripping the lunchbox harder. "Do you know my husband?"
She let out a shaky breath. "Yes."
One word. That was all. But it landed in my chest like a stone.
"From work?" I asked.
Her eyes filled so quickly that I almost felt sorry for her before I remembered I was the one standing there with my husband's lunch in my hand.
"Kind of," she murmured.
"Kind of?" My voice cracked. "What does that even mean?"
