9
Elle
Right at noon, Mom opens the back door. “Ready, Elle?” She wears another sundress. Sadly, this one seems to hang even more loosely on her frame. My throat tightens. How much longer does she have?
“Almost,” I reply. “Just need to lock up.” I reach the front door and navigate our collection of bolt locks and key codes. “What’s the plan for today?”
“We visit fourth floor for a party of some kind. That’s all I know. The animates are organizing everything.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be nice.” The animates adore my parents.
Once I’m done with the locks, I flip the sign to read closed. After that, I follow Mom through the back exit and into the warehouse itself.
“Did I tell you about our latest artist?” asks Mom.
“No.” This isn’t a surprise, though. Somehow, new animates al
