The smell of varnish hung heavy in the garden, a sharp, chemical scent that cut through the damp earthiness of the morning. It was ten days until the launch, and the bench Marcus had been building was finally ready for its final coat. I stood on the patio, holding a mug of coffee that had gone lukewarm, watching him work. He was meticulous with the brush, smoothing the liquid over the wood grain, ensuring there were no bubbles, no missed spots. It was a quiet activity, one that seemed at odds with the chaos brewing in my inbox.
My phone buzzed on the table behind me. I ignored it. It was likely Sarah, the security lead, or David from the foundation. Or the publisher, panicking about seating arrangements. For this one moment, while Marcus dipped the brush into the can, I wanted to just wat
