Nobody slept.
That was the honest account of it. Six people who had survived a god had been thoroughly defeated by the logistics of moving house, and by four in the morning the corridor outside the faculty apartment had become a crime scene made of crates.
Maren was in the middle of it with three bags and an argument.
"It's one crate."
"It's four crates," said Dani.
"It's one crate and three things."
"The things are in crates. That's four crates."
"You're doing that thing where you're technically correct."
"I'm always technically correct. That's the entire service I provide."
◆◆◆◆
Selah packed in eleven minutes and then supervised, which was worse for everyone.
"That's going to break."
"It's not going to break."
"Maren, it's glass, it's on top, and the road east is unpaved for sixty kilometers."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I read the route." Selah lifted the glass out and put it at the bottom. "One of us has to."
