Skritch stood in the Irrelevance Fund shed, kicking at a loose board on the floor. The place smelled like old paper and dust, which suited him fine.
He had spent the morning moving one stack of receipts from one shelf to another and back again, mostly because it killed time without requiring any real decisions. That was the point of the Fund—stuff that didn't matter but still existed.
A man stepped through the crooked doorway. Mid-aged, with a perfectly folded cloak over one arm and a straight posture that looked out of place.
His boots were clean, like he had just arrived from somewhere that cared about such things. He blinked a few times, glancing around the cluttered shed.
"Excuse me," the man said in a polite, measured voice. "I appear to have drifted off the Lattice path. This is the Zone, correct? I was aiming for a rest stop but ended up here."
Skritch grunted. "Yeah, this is it. Happens sometimes. You lost or just confused?"
