Alex and Karl are ridiculous.
The thought arrives fully formed, uninvited, and warm.
Alex leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head, watching me fill out the vacation request like it’s performance art.
“Audra,” he says, voice solemn. “Is this… is this happening?”
I don’t look up. “Yes.”
He squints at the form. “Out of state?”
“Yes.”
“Multiple days?”
“Yes.”
He drops his hands to the desk. “Who are you and what have you done with our director.”
I finally glance at him. “I’m taking three days, Alex. Not fleeing the country.”
“That’s how it starts.”
Karl is already sprawled across the guest chair like gravity is optional. He nods gravely. “First it’s three days. Then it’s a yurt. Then none of us ever see you again.”
Alex snaps his fingers. “She’s right. It’s always a yurt.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself, pen still moving. “Karl is filling in. You’ll survive.”
Karl perks up. “I accept this responsibility with honor and chaos.”
Alex points at him. “You can’t promise both.”
“I absolutely can.”
The warmth settles low in my chest even now, steady and real.
I open my eyes briefly, staring at the spa ceiling, then let them close again.
I’m still there.
They ask where I’m going.
“Just… away,” I say. Which is true in the way that matters.
Alex nods like he understands more than I’ve said. He usually does.
“Who’s replacing you?” he asks, even though he already knows.
“Karl.”
Alex’s face goes thoughtful.
Dangerous.
“So,” he says slowly, “hypothetically. If Karl is acting director and I am… let’s say morale support?—”
“You are not morale support.”
