Page 25 of Micah

The ranch disappears in my rearview mirror.

The mountains glow orange beneath the setting sun, long shadows stretching across the pastures where our newest bulls lazily graze.

Somewhere behind me, the cryogenic storage vault hums along exactly as designed, every sensor feeding live telemetry back to the server room beneath my cabin.

Nothing's wrong.

Nothing ever stays wrong for long when I'm watching.

Except, I glance toward the passenger seat.

A plain brown box sits buckled in with the seatbelt.

Inside?

A new HEPA cabin air filter.

Engine air filter.

Replacement wiper blades.

A better-quality windshield washer fluid than whatever discount crap she's probably using.

I'd noticed her coughing after she'd climbed into that old van a few weeks ago.

Windows up.

Air conditioner running.

She'd rubbed at her chest while waiting for the light outside the hardware store.

Didn't take much digging to find out seasonal allergies and mild asthma run together.

The cabin filter hadn't been changed in probably a lot longer than it should've been.

So I ordered one.

Along with the engine filter.

Because if you're already changing one...

Might as well do both.

It's practical.

Makes sense.

Perfectly reasonable.

Except I didn't ask.

Didn't tell her.

Didn't even know if she'd want the help.

Christ.

I grip the steering wheel tighter.