EDWINA
A sharp knock sounded on my door, and Juliette poked her head in.
"Hey, Ed. I just sent you a mail. Please go through it as soon as possible. It's an urgent one," she said, her voice a mixture of politeness and familiarity.
"Okay. Thank you," I responded with a small smile. Juliette nodded and retreated.
I had a feeling that before the accident, she would have walked right in to deliver the message. But everyone was walking on eggshells around me now.
My employees muttered whenever I walked past them, and people, no matter how much they tried not to, stared at me in elevators.
It was exhausting, having to learn and relearn names and people and my relationship with them.
Some people made me feel instantly comfortable, and I knew we must have had some sort of camaraderie before the accident. Those people didn't have to try too hard to talk or relate with me.