DAVE
Seeds of Possibility
The mess hall thrums with its usual dinnertime chaos—overlapping conversations, clattering plates, and Harold's ethereal voice drifting through the walls as he serenades the evening shift chickens. I push Eddie's pot roast around my plate, the savory scent of herbs and slow-cooked meat barely registering as my mind churns through Cumberland pack logistics. Beside me, Kat discusses trailer repairs with Johnny Ray, her animated gestures making the mate mark on her neck catch the light.
"—need new subflooring in at least six units," Johnny Ray explains between bites, his weathered hands sketching dimensions in the air. "But the bones are good. Month of work, maybe less with enough hands."
Enough hands. The phrase catches in my mind like a fishhook. Two hundred an
