"With the staff changes we've been making, we now have to consider the restrictions placed on our budget."<br/>The office was a plain one with distinct lack of character, except for the soft evening light pooling through the large west-facing window which cast a warm gold glow on an otherwise commonplace room.<br/>Vivienne had said she would rather stand for this meeting, but on hearing those words she sat cautiously, perched on the edge of the seat with her legs crossed, purse in lap. Her scrubs were dirty after her shift, dark wavy hair about to fall out of what had been a highly functional bun.<br/>"As such, we've been reviewing the efficacy of certain members in our departments, and have been forced to make some tough decisions."<br/>The sun was bothersome rather than warm now. Vivienne squinted, rubbing the side of her face in contemplation as her supervisor was drowned out by the turbulence of her inner world.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Twenty years of service,</span>Vivienne thought indignantly,<span style="font-style: italic">and I'm the one they choose?</span><br/>"...please understand this decision is not personal, and we would be happy to provide a reference should you need one..."<br/>This went on for some time as Vivienne's supervisor described the process and next steps.<span style="font-style: italic">This isn't right,</span>Vivienne thought.<span style="font-style: italic">Why would they fire me? I've never had a bad performance review, never had a complaint. I do everything right. More so. Normally, shouldn't an employer base it on seniority? First in, first out?</span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe it is seniority,</span>the thought dawned on Vivienne. She had never thought it would happen to her, in her own workplace.<br/>"Is it my age?"<br/>"Hmm, what?" Her supervisor was startled, eyes wide at the suggestion.<br/>"Was I chosen for my age? I'm 57, not dead." Vivienne stood up slowly. One hand was drawn into a fist, though a not a firm one, at her side, while the other hand reached up to touch the edge of her worn employee badge. "I've worked here for 20 years, longer than just about anybody here. Longer than you, Amanda."<br/>Amanda eyebrows furrowed, busying herself with straightening papers on her desk. She herself was in her 30s, if Vivienne had to guess, and had been at the hospital for somewhere around 6 years. "Of course not. It was a difficult decision of course, and we appreciate your dedication to this job and to the kids, but-"<br/>There didn't seem to be a<span style="font-style: italic">but</span>. Amanda was at a loss, and Vivienne tried not to lose her nerve. She felt shamed, ostracized, and devalued. She had expected to work in pediatrics until she died or was forced to retire, and being terminated was not retirement. It was an early sentence. It didn't seem to make any sense. Her advantage, while secret, was clear in her performance rates and the notable improvement of patients in her care. She nor others had ever been bothered by the difference in age of her compared to the other nurses. She fell deeper in thought, letting out a weak sigh.<br/>"Vivienne?"<br/>--<br/>Vivienne was at the public library, a few days after her meeting in the sun-streaked office. She loved the library, from the smell to the polite employees, and she tried to borrow and read a book or so a month. Sometimes thought-provoking, award winning novels, other times passionate romantic paperbacks that made her miss her husband.<br/>Today she hadn't come to read, but use one of the public computers. She had a smartphone, but preferred the clicking of a keyboard, despite not owning her own computer.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Age discrimination</span>she googled cautiously. She was at a loss for what to do. She didn't want to hurt anyone, or the hospital and patients that she adored, but she felt increasingly frustrated by her treatment. There was no way she could be fired from her job, especially considering what she called her "secret magic". She didn't want to bother her daughters with her problems either.<br/>Eyes scanning key paragraphs and phrases, Vivienne began saving the information into a document. She already felt overwhelmed, and began doubting herself, but her punctilious focus kept her from falling apart and, before she had realized it, several hours had passed.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">I should go home,</span>she thought,<span style="font-style: italic">go home and sleep.</span><br/>She didn't truly want to sleep, but sleeping was better than worrying about her finances, her lost job, or her children. They cared too much and lived too far away. She would tell Isabella and Alexis when she was ready, or better yet, when she had taken care of it herself and could tell them proudly that for the first time in many years, she had stood up for herself.<br/>Eyes scanning page after page, Vivienne had saved a few key paragraphs, contact information, and anything else that might help her. Her legs felt sore from sitting so long as she stood up and pushed the computer chair back up to the desk.<br/>The train was only a few minutes away, and Vivienne somewhat enjoyed its rocking and swaying, just as long as she managed to get a seat. Although it was rush hour, and she didn't like the emotions people brought from a long day's work. It always made her feel even more tired.