Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected
“Who’s R. Ott?”
Megan’s thumb froze.
“Former staff.”
“A former employee signed off on my claims?”
“Charlotte.” Derek’s voice rose half a step.
“Shred it, log the count, and we’re done by nine.
This isn’t an audit.”
I put the folder back in the tote and kept both hands on the cart handle without pushing it.
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