She wanted the social credit of my brass buttons without having paid a single dime for them.

Allison pushed through a group of junior cadets to reach us.

She wore a tailored gray suit that looked fresh off the rack.

She tapped her phone screen over and over as she walked.

“I’m waiting on a final interview email from a huge firm,” Allison said.

“The cell service in this stone building is terrible.”

She looked up and finally noticed my uniform.

She stopped tapping the glass and stared at my rank.