Chapter 50 Games People Play

• In her office, Sienna closed the door gently and pulled the blinds shut, cutting off the curious glances of anyone who might pass. She sank into her chair, folded her arms on the desk, and let the tears fall silently. They came slowly at first, trembling down her cheeks, then poured freely until her vision blurred and her chest heaved. She did not sob aloud, but the pain was raw, sitting heavy in her chest like an immovable weight.
• For a very long time, she cried until there were no more tears left to give. Her throat felt tight, her face flushed and swollen, and her body weary. At last, when the tears dried, she reached for the tissue box, dabbing carefully at her eyes as though she could erase the evidence of her grief.
• Sienna straightened in her chair, pulled the nearest file toward her, and forced her attention onto the crisp black words on the page. Facts and figures. Numbers and projections. They were safe. They were solid. Unlike people, they never lied, never left, never betrayed. She let the comfort of numbers wash over her, building a shield around her fragile heart.