Leonard sat behind his massive desk, but it felt like the wood beneath his elbows was far too solid, far too real, compared to the fogginess clouding his head. The document in front of him blurred and sharpened in waves, as though his eyes couldn't decide where to focus. Words slipped past him, black ink twisting into meaningless smudges.
His pen tapped against the paper once, twice, before his hand gave a faint tremor. He clenched his jaw, forcing his grip to steady. The last thing he needed was anyone seeing him weak.
A knock came, soft but firm. "Sir?"
The door cracked open, and Becca stepped inside. She carried a fresh folder in her arms, but when her gaze fell on him, her steps faltered. Her usual composed mask shifted, worry softening her brows.
"You don't look well," she said carefully, approaching his desk.
