“You memorizing numbers doesn’t make you a soldier,” he said, his tone sharper now. “There’s a difference between people who fight and people who hide behind desks.”
The words landed harder than I expected, not because they were new, but because they came at a moment when I was already carrying more than usual. There are things you learn to bury when you’re trying to disappear—skills, instincts, memories—and sometimes, when someone digs in the wrong place, even unintentionally, it gets harder to keep the ground from shifting.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t defend myself. I simply gathered my papers, finished my coffee, and told him his requisition would be processed within standard timelines. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, and he made sure everyone knew it, slamming his hand against the table hard enough to make a few heads turn.
“We deploy in forty-eight hours,” he snapped. “We don’t have time for your timelines.”
I paused at the edge of the table, turning just enough to meet his eyes. “You don’t have time for equipment failure either,” I said quietly. “I’ll make sure you have what you need, but I won’t skip the steps that keep it working.”
