Weak. Whatever. By Monday things are slow, and on Tuesday it’s dead. I figure that cleaning up and doing all the “chores” Jason laid out for me last week will keep me busy, but I realize I’ll finish in a morning. Then what? I tell Jason I’m going to do one last check of the cabins outside, and he grunts in response. This sucks. If I’m going to be stuck out here, it would be nice if we could at least talk a little. Be civil. Without meaning to, I’m blinking back tears as I step outside. I must be really tired because it’s not like me to be this emotional. So what if he doesn’t like me? It doesn’t matter. Boz waves as I make my way across the yard. “Hey, Dana.” “Hey.” I wave back. “You did good last weekend.” He nods once. “Thanks.” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
