Bennington Corporation looms above me, an architectural giant of glass and steel. Its imposing presence is enough to make anyone feel small, but I steel my nerves and step inside.
The interior is a whirlwind of activity — employees rushing around, talking into headsets, tapping furiously on their tablets. The energy is dizzying.
My heels click against the marble floor as I make my way to the elevator, trying to channel the confidence of someone who belongs here.
As I approach the doors, I accidentally bump into a tall man in a sleek navy suit.
“Oh, sorry,” I blurt out, but he’s already melting into the crowd, disappearing like a shadow.
Something about him feels oddly familiar, but I shake the thought away. Today isn’t about distractions.
I press the button for the 30th floor, where the charity division is located. The ride up is a brief eternity, each floor dinging past with a nervous thud in my chest. When the doors slide open, I’m met with a different kind of bustle.
Here, people move with purpose but seem genuinely happy. The vibe is welcoming, and for a moment, I feel a small measure of relief.