You walk quickly back down the hallway and slip into the breakroom. To look like you belong there, you open the fridge. There is nothing but plain seltzer water. You can hear someone coming, so you take a can and then check the freezer. Nothing but bottles of vodka.

You pull out your phone, sit down at a rickety metal table, and open your seltzer. Your heart is hammering in your chest.

Two male interns enter, look around and sneer. One looks at you and slowly licks his lips.

“Vox? Ew,” the other says and slaps the leering intern’s arm. “It’s like sleeping with a special ed kid. And I don’t even think he’s gay.”

“Everyone is gay these days, but maybe he’d prefer Celeste.”

“Celeste would eat him alive.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants. Hey, foxy Voxy, you want a girl to literally eat you alive?”

“Vore,” the taller one says.

“Vore fetish. Do you have a vore fetish, little journalist?”

“Do you have any peanut butter cheese crackers?” you ask. “All I can have are peanut butter cheese crackers.”

They both wrinkle their faces.

“They should have to wear a sign,” the short one says.

“He really passes. It’s impressive.”

The two of them leave and you hear the bathroom door across the hall swing open then shut.

You walk out of the breakroom and work your way down the hall. There is only one office left. You listen at the door. Nothing. Are they all soundproofed?

As you are about to move on, the door opens and Kamala steps out. She smiles and looks at you kindly.

“What are you doing, young man?” she asked.

She steps back into her office and motions you in. “I always have time for a young reporter, c’mon in.”

DO YOU follow Kamala into her office? TURN TO PAGE 45

DO YOU run for the elevator? TURN TO PAGE 46