“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “That wasn’t me.”

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“Do you intend you need to come over to do a good job?” Suzanne’s own voice left no doubt what she thought the answer was.
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“Nevertheless,” Caroline said.
“Do you intend you need to come over to do a good job?” Suzanne’s own voice left no doubt what she thought the answer was.
“This morning, when you went to get the chocolate, I heard some of the others there talk regarding you. I don’t know if they knew I could hear them or if they did it on purpose. They said you were in the Klan.”
The next two days were replays of the first. She would be abusive, he’d make her a meal then do some cleaning and by the time he returned to concentrate the tray she’d be asleep.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “That wasn’t me.”
She missed him. It stung to think about what he’d be doing if he were with her. He’d probably sit down and try on to help, but only end up sitting in useful piling space instead. He’d push his hair out of his eyes while he looked at the clothes below him. And when he felt her watching, he’d look up toe his dirty blonde vines and his grey eyes would flicker while he smirked. They’d both laugh—a nonverbal harmony that he had no goal what the hell he was doing.
“We first cause to find out who did this and that won’t be easy because the administer will not be very co-operative.”

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