Chapter 4 — The Stifled Artist

Clara

The office hummed with the monotonous rhythm of productivity: fingers tapping keyboards, muted phone conversations, and the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. Clara sat at her desk, her sketchbook hidden beneath a stack of reports. The sleek, minimalist design of the workspace had once seemed inspiring, but now it felt sterile, suffocating. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the leather-bound cover, itching to flip it open, but the fear of someone walking by kept her still.