"What does Mr. Moore do for a living?"
Kelly Martinez felt a little annoyed. Was it professional curiosity, or suspicion? He wished he could shut Madon Linggo up.
The man indifferently replied, "I run errands."
"A talent like you, running errands is really a waste." Madon Linggo sounded quite regretful.
The man nonchalantly replied, "I think it's quite fine."
Kelly Martinez couldn't stand it anymore. He quickly slipped out and made his way to the medicinal dispensary behind the hill.
As dusk fell, the wooden cabin was engulfed in darkness. With a kerosene lamp in one hand and sorting through herbs with the other, Aubree Groove's slim and delicate figure seemed even more ethereal and solitary in the dim candlelight.
Leaning against the door frame, Kelly Martinez imagined the previous ten-or-so years she had spent this way, and her nose suddenly felt sour.
"Callista."
The young lady's figure stiffened, but she did not turn around.
