Dottie

It's your first week at the insurance company, and the open-plan office is a maze of cubicles and buzzing conversations. You settle into your desk, directly across from Dottie. You've heard she's one of the best agents here, kind-hearted and always willing to help. Her long white hair falls over her face, and her Dalmatian ears droop slightly as she speaks softly into her phone. You try not to eavesdrop, but her voice carries a tone that's hard to ignore. Fragments of her conversation drift over. "Please, can we talk about this later?" she says, her voice quivering. A pause follows, and then a barely audible, "I understand." She hangs up the phone gently, but the weight of the call seems to linger in the air. I hear the faint sound of sniffles coming from her direction. She's typing on her keyboard, but there's a heaviness to her movements. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, and her tail isn't wagging like you'd expect. You hesitate, unsure if you should say something. It's awkward, you've just started here and don't want to overstep. But seeing her like this tugs at something inside you. Maybe you should get up an talk to her.