Noah knocked lightly on the office door.
"Come in," the manager answered from the inside.
He stepped in.
The office was barely big enough for the metal desk shoved against one wall. Papers were stacked everywhere and the manager
sat slumped forward, glasses low on his nose, rubbing at his temples.
"Hey, Noah. Close the door and sit." He motioned to the single folding chair.
Noah's stomach dropped. People never get called into the office unless something bad has happened. Nonetheless, he closed the door, and sat down nervously.
The manager sighed like he was already exhausted by the conversation. He didn't look at Noah at first, instead, he picked up a yellow folder, flipped it open, and then shut it again.
The anxiety Noah was feeling only spiked.
Finally, the manager spoke.
"I'm just going to say it."
Noah tensed.
"We're cutting back," he said. "It's a new month. Slow season. And headquarters wants labor costs reduced."
