I’m not ready for a relationship. Clearly. I’m good at organizing things, micromanaging people, and hyper analyzing small details. I am not good at interpersonal relationships. I storm out of my mother’s office, angry at myself more than anything else.
I missed observing the first inspection session with our team on the first series of transformers, so I drive straight back out to the power towers, as Maddie called them. I spend the rest of the day re-checking Dave’s work, and am then even more angry with myself when of course everything is perfect. Every decimal point aligned, every element scrutinized against the protocols Kellen and I developed for this project.
The apartment is empty when I get home, and neat as a pin. The kitchen smells like cleaners, and I growl, knowing Maddie m
