JJ
Stitch made his way back to my doorway after giving me fifteen minutes to breathe.
“You okay?”
The question made something hot and brittle rise behind my ribs.
“I’m fine.”
It came out too quickly.
“I have to reset before my next appointment.”
“You don’t have another appointment.”
“I might get a walk-in.”
“It’s Thursday.”
“So?”
“So the last person who wandered in on a Thursday asked whether we tattooed dogs.”
Despite myself, a breath of laughter escaped me.
Stitch pointed at me as though he had won something. “There. Proof of life.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re wiping down a station you already cleaned.”
“It can always be cleaner.”
“And now you sound like my mother.”
I reached for the disinfectant again, but he took the bottle from my hand before I could spray it.
“Go hom
