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DINNER

Christine stepped into the house, greeted by the familiar coolness of the air conditioning and the subtle scent of jasmine her mother loved to diffuse. The grandeur of the Momoh mansion always felt a little overwhelming, even to her, but tonight, it felt oddly comforting, a sanctuary from the swirling anxieties of her recent days.

Earlier that morning, she’d discovered a crisp sheet of paper sitting neatly on her study table, amidst the familiar landscape of her laptop, curved monitor, printer, and – somewhat anachronistically – her facsimile machine. A fax. Her heart gave a small, involuntary leap at the sight of it, a conditioned response from years of anticipation. Picking it up, she read the neat, bolded header that carried the Momoh farms logo.

Below it was a succinct message:

*"Dearest Christine,

Tonight at 7:30 PM, we will discuss your travel plans and school preferences over dinner. Please come prepared with your thoughts.

Love,

Mom and Dad."*