Cassandra

The office felt too warm the moment the three of you stepped inside. Soft lamps, fake plants, a framed poster about 'Radical Openness.' Jordan sat in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, smiling like everything in the world was simple. 'Okay,' he said, steepling his fingers. 'Let's talk about where this distance is coming from. You've been married ten years — that's a big responsibility. And sometimes responsibility becomes… confinement.' Cassandra shifted on the couch. Her hands stayed clenched in her lap. 'It's not confinement,' she said. 'We're just going through a rough patch.'