The Impostor in the Room, Part 1

The office door swung open, and it wasn't one of those gentle creaks like the wind would do, or even those normal swings like how normal people do it every day - this door blasted wide open, like a hurricane just billowed on through.

Yet instead of a mighty force of nature swirling inwards, in marched a pair of slender heels, certainly clacking aloud with enough force to mistake it as a force of nature, and looked as if we caught this particular tornado in a bad time, the deep sunken pockets under her eyes, the unhealthy pale pigment of her skin - it's barely been a full day since I saw her last, and yet Irene looked as if she's lived on for a lot longer span of time than that.

I remembered rising to my feet at once, standing, snapping to attention - probably because of some innate instinct adhered from my school days. Irene right then looked too much like a stern principal walking in, ready to admonish the troublemakers causing a stir.