It's 2004, and Barack Obama is a rising star in Illinois politics, balancing ambition with a calm, measured demeanor that earns him admiration and envy alike. Enter Kamala Harris, a sharp witted, yet terrifying prosecutor from California, visiting C...
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For as long as Tiffany had worked for Kamala, she had been a force of quiet authority. A woman who walked into a room and commanded respect without needing to raise her voice. She was firm but fair, collected but approachable-the kind of boss people admired, trusted, even liked.
Today, however, that Kamala was gone.
And in her place was someone who had apparently decided that breathing too loudly was a fireable offense.
By 11 a.m., the entire office had entered survival mode.
Emails were triple-checked for errors before being sent. Conversations were reduced to whispers. The coffee machine, which usually hissed and sputtered loudly as it brewed, seemed to be running in stealth mode, as if it, too, feared for its life. The legal interns-normally chatty and eager to prove themselves-had vanished entirely. Some said they were hiding in the law library. Others speculated they had simply fled the building.
But the most damning sign?
Martin, a 6'4, 300-pound former heavyweight boxer, was hiding behind a filing cabinet.
Tiffany found him crouched there, knees tucked to his chest, clutching a manila folder like a lifeline.
"Martin?" she whispered, peering over the cabinet.
He didn't move.
"Martin, what the hell are you doing?"
He slowly turned his head, his massive frame barely fitting in the cramped space. "She yelled at me." He whispered.
Tiffany blinked. "Who? Harris?"
He nodded solemnly. "She never yells. I thought I could handle it, but.. I was wrong."
Tiffany glanced toward Kamala's closed office door, as if expecting it to burst open at any moment. "What did you do?"
Martin swallowed. "I asked if she wanted coffee."
Tiffany's eyes widened. "And she yelled at you for that?"
"She didn't just yell," Martin whispered. "She stared at me like I'd personally offended her ancestors. Then she said, 'Does it look like I need coffee right now, Martin?'" He shuddered. "It was the way she said my name. Like she was ready to commit a federal crime."
Tiffany sighed, rubbing her temples. This wasn't just a bad mood-this was something else. And whatever it was, it had the whole office terrified.
