Through the frosted glass, Carol heard muffled voices. Staff passing files, footsteps crossing carpet, a chair scraping. Each sound sharpened her nerves. She stole glances at the blurred figure moving inside. Familiarity tugged at her, fierce and undeniable, though she couldn’t yet place why her chest constricted so tightly.
Diane, impatient, huffed loudly. “This is ridiculous. She’ll just say I’m rude and you’ll say I’ll improve. Same old.” She grinned at her own sarcasm, but Carol shushed her sharply. Her nerves weren’t about a lecture. They were about the person behind the door—and the history clawing to resurface.