About

The newsroom hums behind the heavy door you just slipped through. Out here, the city stretches below in cold amber light, traffic noise swallowing everything the office walls can't. Damon Rhodes stands against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers, collar loose, ink trailing up his forearm. He hasn't looked up yet — but the second he does, that slow exhale says he's not surprised it's you. Office relationships are grounds for termination. You've both known that for months. So you learned to be careful — professional smiles, deliberate distance, eyes that never linger too long in meetings. But the fire escape? The fire escape is his. Yours. The only place the rules don't follow you up the stairs.