I sat on the edge of the crinkly paper, my legs dangling, shivering not just from the aggressive air conditioning, but from a hollow dread that had become my constant companion. Across the room, Jason Carter sat in the guest chair. He wasn’t looking at me. He was never looking at me anymore. He was checking his watch, a heavy, ostentatious timepiece he had bought to celebrate his promotion to Senior Analyst, and aggressively scrolling through emails on his phone. The blue light from the screen illuminated a face that I had once found handsome, but now only saw as a mask of impatience.

“Dr. Evans said the hormone levels are still suboptimal,” Jason said. He didn’t look up. His voice was flat, the tone he used when discussing a stock that was underperforming.