He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

in from an unknown number. Normally I’d ignore it, but something in my chest said answer.

— Hello?

A familiar voice responded. Low. Strained. Trying and failing to mask panic.

— Fiorina! This is Trevor.

Trevor. The analyst Graham had tried to promote into my role. A good person, but far too green for the weight he’d been given.

— I’m sorry to bother you,continue reading …