On the way to Fine Industries, I open my phone and thumb through Kenya Jones’s employee files once more. A Lit major. I wonder if she was disappointed when the only job she could get after graduation was at a department store. Working as a store clerk seems like a steep departure from her major. Perhaps it was intentional. I don’t know. Ezekiel’s phone rings. He answers brusquely. “Walt. Yes? Yes.” His stony eyes meet mine as he turns to look over his shoulder. “She won’t be fired?” “You know the answer.” “Walt’s asking.” No he’s not. “I won’t repeat myself.” Ezekiel sighs like a parent tired
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