Episode 6: Terms and Boundaries
987 Words
The apartment still held last night’s warmth; a strip of gray light leaked through the curtains. Avery pressed the kettle on and, as it began to murmur, wiped down her bench. A cluster of unread emails waited in her inbox, all with similar headers from the health center’s domain. She opened them one by one. They were more specific than before—there was talk of a “phase,” of “batches,” of an “advance”—but the purpose was still vague.
She forwarded them to Maya with a line: “More than before, still unclear.”
Maya called a minute later, voice brisk. “Meet once. On campus, daytime, with people around. Make them state the needs face to face. Don’t go alone—I’ll sit in. We put it on the table.”
“Bring a recorder?” Avery asked.
“Your phone’s enough,” Maya said. “Boundaries first. If they ask you to sign or carry anything on the spot, say no. I’ll handle the rest.”
Avery replied to the health center: “Meeting is fine. Location: campus public café. Oral framework only—no signing, no taking items. If we confirm a direction, follow up by email.” She set the phone aside, made a simple breakfast, and ate at an even pace. There was a tautness under her sternum, like a fine thread pulling—less fear than the pressure of setting a thing straight.
The sky was evenly bright when she left, the ground nearly dry. She met Maya, and they moved with the campus flow toward the café. Wooden tables lined the tall windows; students spoke low over open books and laptops. Maya chose an inside table and shrugged off her coat. “They’ve arrived—have them come over.”
The flaxen-haired woman from the day before came in with a new companion—younger, quick eyes. She waved from a distance. Up close she clocked Maya and smoothed her smile. “Hello. Safer this way—and more efficient.”
Maya offered her hand. “I’m her friend. I also work in law. I’ll note the key points.”
The woman blinked once, then nodded. “Of course.” She sat and set a pouch at the corner. “We brought a clearer framework—just for reference.”
“Start with use,” Avery said.
“We’re building a scent program for relaxation and sleep support,” the woman said. “A few fixed formulas, and we want you to keep your own signature.” Her tone softened. “We know you’re independent—we respect that. Payment by batch, each batch with a confirmation.”
“Relaxation and sleep are catch-alls,” Maya said. “What’s the specific setting?”
A small ripple passed through the woman’s smile. “Primarily indoor spaces—our center and partners. As for ratios—”
“Are hospitals involved?” Maya pressed. “If so, scope it.”
The woman paused and pivoted. “We have health centers and work with certain institutions. We won’t cross lines.”
“Writing ‘won’t cross lines’ means nothing,” Avery said evenly. “Who takes delivery, where it’s placed, and who it’s used on—those must be spelled out. Also: returns and destruction—how, and by whom.”
Silence, a beat. The younger colleague slid a sheet across. “We can start with basic SKUs, small quantities—no pressure.”
Maya nudged the sheet back. “No paperwork today. State your commitments now, then email. Nothing you brought stays with us.”
The woman drew the paper back, smile thinner. “All right. One: POs will specify use and location. Two: no exclusivity. Three: payment by batch. Four: no duties beyond her scope.”
Maya nodded. “Continue.”
“We’ll also give her a single point of contact,” the woman said. “All requests via email—no meeting strangers. Yesterday’s outreach was our mistake. We apologize.”
“Don’t tail people again,” Avery said.
A fingertip tapped the cup. “It won’t happen again.”
The younger colleague produced a sealed paper bag. “We made three scents—just to take home and smell. No log, no signature.”
“She’s not taking it,” Maya said, eyes cool.
Avery glanced at the bag without reaching. “Every test has to be logged. If you want a proper process, follow it. I’m not taking anything today.”
The younger one’s smile buckled; the woman picked up smoothly. “Understood. Then we’ll lock the oral framework and send details by email.”
Maya typed a clean summary into her notes: “Use, location, payment, point of contact, returns/destruction, non-exclusive. If anything’s missing, add it later. One more—no use of her name in any publicity without written permission.”
“Agreed,” the woman said quickly. “We’ll tidy it up.”
A brief stillness. Avery sipped; the cup was hot against her fingers, and she set it down. The woman stood and straightened her coat. “That’s all for today. Thank you.”
They exchanged brief goodbyes. The two figures slipped into the student crowd, steps quick and intent.
Maya let out a breath when the seats were empty. “That was fine. No hard push.”
“You moved faster than I did,” Avery said, sliding her chair in.
“It’s my job.” Maya’s smile was small. “Now we wait for the email. We’ll read before we decide.”
They left the café and strolled the campus path. Tree shadows wavered on the ground; the wind was light. At the gate, Maya sketched her schedule. “I’m heading to a meeting. Avoid quiet places. Text me on your way home so I can keep tabs.”
“I will,” Avery said.
- Writer
