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screen how pale and sickly I looked. My limbs shook as I stood up and walked towards her office. I kept imagining her leaning over the desk, screaming at me. I wonder what this is about. There was someone already in her office; I could see their bodies behind the frosted glass.
    The door flung open and Mark, one of my colleagues, sped out of her office without a backwards glance. I closed my hands to relieve some of the coldness and opened my boss’ door.
    Mary waved me in from behind her desk, looking uncharacteristically serious. Uh-oh. Does she hate my last design?
    “Hello, Natalie. Have a seat.”
    I sat down on the seat painfully. It was like being called to the principal’s office. Jessica and I were sent there once for throwing a boy’s jacket into the mud in middle school. Jessica and I debated whether we would be sent to juvenile hall while we waited outside his office. I never forgot how horrified I felt. The same uneasy feeling coursed through my veins. 
    “Natalie, as you know the aquarium has been experiencing declining profits and our department’s budget has been cut. I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go.”
    What? My insides froze as “let you go” wormed through my brain. She’s firing me. “Why me? I’ve been here way longer than Carrie and Janine.”
    “Frankly, you’ve lost your edge. You’re frequently late and you don’t pay attention in meetings. I can’t use anything you send me anymore. I will not fight for you if your designs are poor, no matter how many years you’ve been here. I’m sorry.”
    She was indifferent to my emotions. I couldn’t find the words—my world was falling apart. My voice stumbled in an attempt to desperately salvage my first ever job.
    “I’m sorry, Miranda. It’s the stress over losing Ben. I’m still not over him. Please give me another chance!”
    Her face creased. “Natalie, it’s almost been a year. I quite understand that break-ups are painful, but it shouldn’t have affected your job like this. I’m sorry. I would keep you, but we just don’t have the budget.”
    First my relationship and now my career. How did everything fall apart so neatly? Miranda was immune to my tears—I was just another casualty of the failing economy, a lackluster employee who finally was cut loose.
    Ignoring her outstretched hand, I turned around and bolted from her office like a coward. What else was there to do but empty out my desk and go home? I didn’t want to face my coworkers and hear their sympathies. I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of tequila.
    Don’t be stupid. Your designs are good. You’ll find another job, easily.
    But I turned down an interview at Apple six months ago. Cringing, stinking fear always kept me from advancing my career. I was convinced that I was never good enough. It’s only a matter of time before I fuck up, just like today.
    “Natalie? What are you doing?”
    A photo of Ben and I sat on my desk, its metallic frame grinning. Fuck you. It’s all your fault. I hurled it into the trashcan. My arm swept all of the unnecessary crap on my desk into the trash. Was there anything I should salvage? I shoved my coffee mug in my purse.
    “Natalie!”
    Janine poked her head around my cubicle and I dissolved into tears when I saw the concern on her face. “I was laid off.”
    “Oh my gosh. Natalie, I’m so sorry.”
    I waved it off and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The box of tissues was buried deep in the trash. Another surge of violent heat seared through my veins. I was so sick of tissues, so sick of crying all the time.
    “You’ll find something else.”
    She placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, which I ignored. I ripped open my drawers and crammed the files I wanted to keep into my already overfilled purse.
    “We should go out for a drink or something.”
    I shook my head. I didn’t think I could handle dozens of people saying how very sorry they were, and how they were sure I would find something