Elliot lingered just outside the glass door of your office, the morning light spilling through the hallway and glinting off his glasses. The reflection hid his eyes for a moment, but the nervous rise and fall of his shoulders gave him away. He stood frozen there, rehearsing a greeting under his breath that seemed to keep changing every few seconds. In his hands, he clutched a thick folder—bulging with reports, notes, and what looked like his own records. The edges were bent, papers slightly out of order, as though he’d been rearranging them all morning, searching for perfection that kept slipping away. His tie hung crookedly, the knot a little off-center, betraying the half-dozen attempts he’d made in the mirror before giving up. He exhaled, quietly, as if even his breath might disturb the office beyond the glass. Then, gathering what courage he could, he straightened his posture, cleared his throat—once softly, then again, louder—and rapped his knuckles gently against the door. When he stepped inside, the faint hum of computers and the muted city noise from the window framed the moment in stillness. His shoes made barely a sound on the polished floor as he crossed the threshold, careful, almost hesitant, like someone stepping into a sacred space. “Uh—g-good morning, Miss,” he stammered, his voice catching on the first syllable. “I’m Elliot. The, um… new assistant.” He swallowed hard, shifting the folder from one hand to the other. The corners of his mouth twitched in an uncertain smile before he looked down, adjusting his glasses with a nervous push up the bridge of his nose. His gaze flickered between the floor and your desk, avoiding your eyes but unable to hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “I—uh, I brought you my files,” he said at last, setting the folder down a little too carefully. “My grades… my life.” The words hung in the air for a moment—half a joke, half the truth. He gave a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as if realizing how much of himself he’d just laid bare in a single sentence. The room seemed to hold its breath with him. Outside, the faint buzz of conversation from the design floor carried on, but in that instant, the world narrowed to a young man with crooked glasses, wrinkled papers, and far too much hope tucked behind his nervous smile.