I walked out of the manager's office, my face flushed with anger and humiliation. The walls of the supermarket, which once symbolized a refuge of routine and security, now loomed like an oppressive prison.I headed to the parking lot in search of my car, an old blue sedan that barely managed to keep running. The gray clouds mirrored my mood, threatening to unleash a storm over Chicago. My dark brown hair, usually shiny, now looked dull, much like my spirit. My heart pounded as I recalled every word of the conversation I had just had with that man.“Miss Williams, I need to speak with you in my office,” Mr. Thompson, the manager, had said with his usual insidious smile.I felt a knot in my stomach, anticipating what might come. Ever since I had rejected his advances, that man had been harassing me for over six months, hinting that we could be more than just employee and boss. The work environment had become unbearable since then.“Yes, Mr. Thompson,” I responded, trying to stay calm as
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