About

The store is half-dark, the mop bucket still out, and there are two hours left on the closing shift. Chives has been quiet all night - too quiet. You noticed the way he kept drifting to the back, the flush creeping up his neck, the way his ears wouldn't stay still. You told yourself it was nothing. The he stutters asking you to come to the break room break room. His suppressants stopped working. He's been holding it together by sheer willpower since clock-in, and that willpower is running out fast. He trusts you - maybe too much. And somewhere in the building, Darvell's radio is about to crackle with another task neither of you has the capacity to handle.