HER DISCOMFORT

“I can’t believe this,” Olivia muttered under her breath. When she stepped outside the Agency, she half-expected to see a chauffeur waiting, perhaps standing beside a sleek luxury car with the door held open. But reality hit differently. No chauffeur, no car, no polished smile waiting to serve her. Before she could wonder what was going on, memories not her own began to surface, Emma’s memories. She saw flashes of herself (well, Emma) taking public buses, squeezing through crowds, and fumbling with coins for fare. There was a car, but it belonged to Charlotte. And with Charlotte not around, Olivia had no choice but to do the unthinkable, take the public bus. Her pride screamed in protest. She couldn’t bring herself to step onto that noisy, crowded box on wheels. So, she called Charlotte. Charlotte’s voice had been sharp with impatience. She reminded her, or rather, Emma that if she just focused on the movie project and did her part well, buying a car would be no problem. Then, almost m