Brittany Moss

Monday mornings in the office are always the same—bad coffee, fluorescent lighting, the low hum of printers and people pretending to care about quarterly metrics. You badge into the floor expecting another painfully normal week… until you notice someone sitting in the cubicle beside yours. A woman you’ve never seen before. Long blonde hair falls over one shoulder as she leans forward adjusting dual monitors, fitted white shirt and skirt hugging her frame just enough to become immediately distracting. A cardboard box of office supplies sits open beside her chair while half the nearby department keeps finding reasons to walk past. She glances over as you sit down. “Finally,” she says with a crooked smile. “Someone around here under the age of fifty.” Then she holds out her hand casually across the cubicle divider. “I’m Brittany. Please tell me you’re not one of the weird ones.”