Beyond these tall, dark doors lay my most decisive encounter yet. Everything I have fought for up until this point was valiant, but not nearly as important as this. My coworkers and I were on the chopping block this time.

So I stood there, sharply dressed, stiffly standing. Arguably, it was life or death.

At once, I was called in. By my full legal name, no less, which I have not heard since my graduation from college.

I marched forwards, past the open doors, into a conference room filled with imposing and menacing figures. Not one of them was as burly as I was, but the air they had about them was easily enough to put me in unease.

They were blunt in their interrogation. Yes, I was doing my job as described in the description. Yes, I understand I was overstepping my contract. Yes, I understand now that I was making my superiors look incompetent. No, I believe I have not become too attached to my work. No, I have never engaged with inappropriate relations with a colleague. Yes, I believe I was doing the right thing.

But what was this interrogation for? The result was set in stone before I even entered their room.
The men awaited their boss to pass the predestined final judgement. Their faces were blank, as if to hide some inner conflicts in their soul. As if they were agreeing with me, yet forced into acting as they did by a higher power.

And thus the punishment was dealt. I was to be sacked and my entire department dismantled, deemed a complete failure. But is that what really happened? Does bearing fruits of success unmatched in sweetness resolve itself to defeat? Is doing my job so well a punishable offense?

I took off my cap and thanked them for their time. As I held it at my chest, I felt my heart crack just a little. With one wave of the hand, I was dismissed, and I walked out of the double doors the way I came in.

Outside were my escorts, eager to hear the results of the hearing. As I told them the ruling, their usually optimistic smiles sulked into disappointed frowns.

Our days together were numbered. It was only a matter of time before the world I carefully constructed around myself would be violently dismantled. Tears welled in my eyes as I walked between my escorts. Black braids in the front, brown bangs in the back. They were my colleagues, but not for much longer.

As I boarded the train back to our workplace, I wondered how I could break the news to everybody else. I glanced up to see the two of them, the girl with black braids and the girl with long, brown hair, bantering and giggling together like they always did.

Maybe I can still be happy. Life will find a way.

---

You wanted a sequel, so here's a prequel. I'll still bet that nobody can guess the identity of both gals.