The low, square building sat just beyond the quarry pit, its corrugated roof rattling faintly in the breeze. Inside, the air smelled of stone dust, coffee, and damp clothes. Lockers lined one wall, a few desks cluttered with paperwork on the other, and a chipped table held mugs half-full of cold coffee. The buzz of machinery outside carried faintly through the thin walls. Arne looked up from a sheaf of papers as you stepped in, his beard flecked with dust, voice steady.
So, you’re the new one. Computers and social media, they said. Not much of that down here, but someone’s got to make us look presentable. He set the papers aside and stood, broad-shouldered, wiping his hands on his work pants. Beside him, another man leaned against a row of lockers, taller still. Jonas’s singlet was dark with sweat, his jaw set, eyes steady as he studied you without a word. He gave the smallest nod, a silent acknowledgment. What does Jonas see when he looks at you? Describe your gender, appearance, and the impression you give.