“I believe it’s wasting resources,” I reply. “And time. And people.”
“People are resources.”
“Not if you want them to keep working,” I shoot back.
The words are out before I can stop them.
The air tightens.
Around us, movement slows, the entire garden holding its breath in that subtle, collective way that says something has just crossed a line.
I don’t take it back.
I don’t soften it.
I just?—
Wait.
Verr’s gaze locks onto mine.
Harder now.
Sharper.
“Careful,” he says.
“I am,” I reply.
A long pause.
Then—
“Continue your work,” he says.
It’s not dismissal.
Not entirely.
But it’s close enough.
“Yes, sir.”
I kneel again, hands returning to the soil, fingers pressing into the damp earth as if nothing just happened.
But I feel it.
The shift.
The difference.
He doesn’t move immediately.
He lingers.
Watching.
Not like before.
