You come into work the next day puffy-eyed and absolutely exhausted. You barely got any sleep last night, and it shows. Or, it did until you go against your personal mantra and put on lip gloss and concealer and killer (well, it was supposed to be…) mascara – really, anything to attract attention away from the bags under your eyes. No one seems to notice (not that, really, you particularly want them to) until Olaf steps into the elevator.

He gives you one look, and then his mouth seems to just spew the first thought that crosses his mind. “You look like shit,” he says. Thankfully, there’s no one else in the elevator, so all you do is glare at him.

“Well, I mean, the make-up looks pretty, but… you sure you don’t need to stay home today or something?”

The last thing you need to do is stay home. You just need to get stuck into work and forget yourself for the day.

When the elevator stops on your floor, you push past Olaf, making your way to the office you’re going to be working in. He follows you, but you make sure to close your door. Sure, he could just knock and come in, but he seems to realise that you really don’t want to talk to him.

You get most of the way through the day before being interrupted again. You don’t feel quite as terrible – the monotony of filing certainly seems to have helped. It gives you the strength to actually open the door when you hear a light tapping.

Elsa’s standing outside, a fern in her hands. It’s a terribly cliché office gift, you think as she looks at you, a contrite look on her face.

“I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday,” she begins, fixing you with a strong look. “I suppose I haven’t been doing very good, making you feel welcome. I wanted to apologise, maybe take you out to lunch to make up for it?”

You sigh, and move away, turning your back. “Look, it’s not a good day today. Sorry.”

You realise that you don’t sound that penitent. Your words are actually quite sharp and curt. But, you don’t care. Elsa stands awkwardly in the doorway, still holding the potted plant. She leaves not long after your dismissal, but when you finish work for the day, you see the plant is still sitting next to the door. There’s a little note, tied to it.

To Anna, it reads. Just thought your office could do with some colour. Feel free to decorate how you want – it’s your personal space now. From, Elsa.

The letter is written in the same curling font as her name-plaque is, but it’s obviously handwritten. You pick up the plant and put it in the corner of the room, next to the window. You only have one window – quite unlike Elsa’s office – but it gives an entirely different view of the city. Plus, you can still see out of it, being that it reaches to floor, too.

The office does look a bit sad, you think. You don’t fight back the little smile that rises to your lips. Now you have an office. It feels a lot less temporary now, this job.

Your parents would be so proud.