The meeting room is dim. The big screen glows at the front of the room, casting pale blue light across the faces of the executives and illuminating the intricate plans of Roselle Holdings' newest project—a venture that should have consumed my attention, that should have demanded every fragment of my focus.
Instead, I sit at the head of the table, my glasses resting loosely on the bridge of my nose, my fingers absently tapping the open file before me. The words on the page blur into meaningless shapes.
A staff member stands at the front, his voice steady and practiced as he walks through the presentation. He points at graphs, gestures toward timelines, speaks of projections and profit margins. His voice is a distant hum, like a radio playing in another room. I hear the words, but they don't land. They slide off the surface of my mind like water over stone.
My mind is somewhere else entirely.
What kind of herb did he put in that soup?
