“I lack emotion?” My voice rises. This can’t be true. Emotion is making my entire body hot and cold. It’s why there are invisible ants crawling all over my skin. My mind is frozen, trying to take in what he’s saying but not quite absorbing the words. If this isn’t emotion, what is?

Stacey winces. “It’s not that you lack emotion, personally. It’s that your ads lack emotion.”

Blade shuffles the papers in his hands, not meeting my eyes. “And you don’t have enough experience and it shows.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’ve worked here for four years,” I mumble. I’m here all the time. I always stay late. I’ve never even taken a sick day.

Meanwhile half the office calls in on Mondays to nurse their hangovers. But I complete all their grunt work, filing, and reports, without complaint. And this is what I get in return?

Stacey says, “You’re a hard worker, Jane, but you aren’t good at explaining your ideas. They don’t come across in a clear manner. This job doesn’t come as easily to you as some of your peers and that’s not necessarily your fault.”

Drew sighs. “What we’re saying here, Jane, is that even with the extra time on the job, you’re not producing as much usable content. Not enough to run your own team, barely enough to make it as a student marketer.”

Prickly heat coats my skin. “I’ll work harder.”

“It’s not that, it’s just . . . you don’t fit,” Blade says.

And there it is. Something I’ve heard over and over. You’d think it would be less of a shock after a while, but it’s not. I don’t fit in anywhere. Not here, not with any type of friends group, not at work, not even with my family.

Drew taps his pen against the glass table. “The truth is, Jane, this pitch was one last shot to see if you had anything to offer this company. And you don’t.”

“Is this—are you . . . firing me?”

“Yes.” Blade is abrupt.

Stacey shoots him a dirty look and leans toward me. “You shouldn’t think of this as a door shutting. It’s a whole bunch of new doors ready to open. You need to find your niche. And this isn’t it, Jane. You’re too shy.”

Her words don’t quite register through the roar of blood in my ears.

Fired.

I’m being fired.

Everything dims, blackness infiltrating the edges of my vision. The walls of the room press in on me.