Outside, the evening air was cool and sharp. The parking lot shimmered under streetlights. Her commanding officer waited near a government sedan, hands in his pockets.
“Still quiet as ever,” he said.
“Still following orders,” she replied.
He smiled faintly. “You handled that well.”
“I didn’t handle anything,” Clare said. “I just stood there.”
“Sometimes that’s enough.”
He handed her a small folder. “Your reassignment is complete. You’re cleared to speak now.”
Clare looked down at the papers — the kind that carried both freedom and finality.
“Thank you, sir.”
He nodded once, then drove away.
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