“Do you have any news?”
Marc shook his head as he flipped open his take-out container. “Not really. I keep hearing conflicting reports.”
“Yeah, me too,” I sighed. “I mean, it could be as early as mid-March, late as June. That’s what I’ve heard.”
“What a fuckshow,” he said and then dug into his tiramisu.
One of our office mates joined us in the conference room. “So when do you think the next round of layoffs is coming?”
Marc and I gave each other the side-eye. “Who knows?” I said airily. Marc became engrossed in his dessert and I became entranced with the snowfall outside our Park Avenue window. The room became heavily silent.
Our coworker left, knowing she wasn’t going to infiltrate this meeting.