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‘Did you want the door open or closed?’ Brent hovered in the doorway.

‘Closed, please.’

‘You’re the boss.’

As the door clicked shut, Cheryl smiled to herself. She could get used to this. She spun around once in the executive high‑backed chair, then stopped and lifted her heels onto the low edge of the window sill. On the street below, people moved through their day—and quite a few of them followed her directions. She’d waited a long time to get here. It deserved a moment.

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. The hum of activity seeped through the walls, a familiar blend of movement and low, collaborative conversation spreading across the office floor. This suite offered refuge, one of the few enclosed spaces in an otherwise open‑plan world. Some in the industry insisted on being out there, claiming to draw energy from the hustle of others. Been there, done that, thought Cheryl.

One upside of the hot‑desk trend was that if a colleague drove you spare with irritating habits, you weren’t tethered beside them all day. Cheryl stifled a shudder as she pictured people who were perfectly pleasant in isolation but draining in proximity—mouth breathing, sniffling, talking endlessly to themselves, or worse, to others. It became work in itself. Having the option to close a door and reclaim mental space mattered more than she’d once imagined. Many times in recent years, she’d eyed this corner suite with something close to lust, daydreaming about the thoughts she might have if only she could hear herself think.

A muffled knock broke her reverie.

Cheryl turned back to the desk. ‘Come in.’ She nudged the mouse and the monitor flickered to life. It wouldn’t do to look as though she’d been sitting there doing nothing.

‘You look right at home. Settling in okay?’

She smiled, careful not to reveal her imposter syndrome. ‘What’s on the list for today?’

Brent cleared his throat and rattled through a flurry of meetings, appointments, and deadlines. He paused, then grinned. ‘I’ve updated your calendar, set you up with access to the master drive, and shared a high‑level overview of the projects and allocations. I’ll walk you through how it all works after the morning team meeting, which—’ he checked his phone ‘—starts in five.’

Cheryl thanked him and asked him to leave the door open on his way out.

As the noise flowed back in, she breathed slowly, evenly. She wouldn’t always get it right.

But she was ready.

This piece was written to a prompt on the Writer’s Digest website. The Boss: write about a boss.

Photo: a knitted reminder that you can do hard things, spotted at Lane Cove, NSW