‘I see.’ Harri will never, ever cry at work. But she may puke. What has she eaten today? She remembers the first three quarters of a banana, abandoned as she left the tube upon encountering its final mushy, brown inch. Then…coffee. More coffee. A cheese sandwich, still in its wrapper, that has been resting on her desk for the last two hours. Every time she has picked it up and started to open it, her phone has rung or an urgent email has come in, or someone has rushed over with an emergency (one was legitimate, a major fuck up with a mascara ad—one was a meme starring a penguin in a party hat). She does not have the energy to throw up. There is nothing in the tank. The sensation is similar to falling in the playground. Running, flying, throwing yourself into a fantasy world, and then having the ground rise up to meet you, sudden and hard. The shock. The pain. Harri does not consider herself to be much of a reader of poetry, but as she feels her soul fly from the room, seeping through the glued shut windows, she finds herself remembering a fragment of Audre Lorde. Something about being non-essential. Wrong. Worn thin.

‘Will that be all?’ No, that isn’t right. Ask a normal question. Ask a human question. ‘I mean, who will the editor be? The new launch—when will that start? How will I transition from my deputy role to the new project?’

Will gulps and looks relieved. Harri is letting him off the hook, asking questions, comfortable, answerable questions, and not the screamingly obvious one, ‘How could you do this to me?’

‘It’s Mackenzie Whittaker, from Hudson US.’

Is that a person, or another company? thinks Harri, for a stupid second. ‘Um, I don’t think I know…’

‘Her background is very much management, not editorial, she’s been overseeing various US titles, and she’s turned them around, profit-wise.’

‘Oh, was she on Glamor? Or Mademoiselle? Lucky? I never came across…’

‘No, no, things with a different profile. Go Fish. The Racing Hound.’

‘But Panache is a women’s lifestyle title. And I would have thought you’d want someone with experience in the sector…’

‘Harri, we both know that things are changing, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to sell a premium print product.’ Against her will, Harri imagines Will screaming the words ‘PREMIUM PRINT PRODUCT’ at the point of ejaculation. ‘We need to make significant changes in terms of how we cost the magazine. And Mackenzie knows money. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll still want your editorial expertise.’

Yeah, that bitch can whistle for it, thinks Harri, as she says ‘Of course. You know how much I care about Panache. After all, it’s been my life for ten years!’