Page 11 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

The medical supplies shelf had various colored labels, alphabetical within categories. Color-coded by expiration date ranges. Anyone could navigate it.

I printed a new label: Medical Supplies—Sutures—Absorbable—Size 3-0—Exp. Date Range…

The current label said Sutures - 3-0 - Absorbable. It wasn’t specific enough, and it didn’t include the expiration date.

The new one was more specific. More thorough.

I peeled off the old label and applied the new one, smoothing it flat with my thumb.

Better.

I moved to the next shelf.

This was a helpful thing to do for my friends. They’d find tracking inventory more efficient. Me being here late had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Willa had looked at my filing system like it was written in a language she didn’t speak.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how her forehead had creased when she opened the third drawer.

I printed another label.

“How many pages was the manual?” someone said behind me.

Greth didn’t need volume to fill a room.

“Sixty-five,” I said, smoothing the new label onto a bin of gauze rolls, glancing his way. “Sixty-seven now, with a new appendix.”

“Laina’s was zero pages.”

“Krem handled it for me.”

Greth lifted his eyebrows.

The tallest of us, he was broader than me, and he used silence the way other orcs used words. I sometimes found it infuriating.

Like now.

I set the label maker down on an empty space on the shelf. “It’s good she’s here. Brovish made the right decision in hiring her.”

“Mm.”

“She’s efficient.”

“Mm.”

“Organized. Friendly. She showed good instincts with a phone intake today.”

The worst part about Greth was that he didn’t need to speak to make his point. His left eyebrow did all the work.

“She’s going to rearrange the filing system,” I said.

“Good.”

“It’s actually not. The current system works.”

“For you.”

He was right, which made him even worse to argue with.

“Your parents controlled every bit of your life,” he said.