I pause at the sight of the clipboard on my front step, once again moved from where I left it in the Food Hall.

I don’t know if there’s a clipboard protocol around here—if there is, no one told me. But since I start each day making coffee, I figured I’d leave my lists by Big Joe so it’s ready for me each morning.

But this is Sterling. And he makes no sense to me.

Grabbing the clipboard, I step back into the cabin.

There are still the usual pages of tasks. Except there’s also money attached.

I tug the cash free.

It’s thirteen dollars.

The same thirteen dollars I gave Sterling yesterday.

Below, on top of the usual pages, is a single sheet of paper with a single line scrawled out.

Lunch is included.


Yawning and climbing into bed freshly showered and hair braided, I wonder if it’s a coincidence I didn’t see Sterling all day.

Or if he’s avoiding me.

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