I take a breath and stand up from the chair, stretching my legs.

My back feels like it's been crushed between two boulders, and sitting for any length of

time always turns it into a pin cushion.

Still, I couldn't be happier.

Everything alright?

She asks.

Peachy.

I pick up the clipboard and clear my throat.

What happens after the animals flee the tree line?

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops.

Her eyes glance down to my open briefcase, staring at the manila folders and the crinkled

old water bottle, filled with grimy black fluid.

Why do you have that?

She says, wrinkling her nose.

Its label is yellow.

It looks like it's twenty years old.

What's that gunk inside?

I scale, kicking my briefcase closed, an experiment.

It's nothing to concern yourself with.

Now then, if you wouldn't mind continuing, I'd like to hear what would happen following

the Exodus.

There's a moment of shared disdain between us.

...