use it.”
I frowned at the thing, turning it over between my fingers. It didn’t look valuable. It looked like something you’d find under an old radiator or in the bottom of a drawer.
“I think you need it more than I do,” I said.
She shook her head once, firm. “No. It’s yours now.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to ask what she meant, to insist she take it back, but the office doors behind me swung open with a rush of warm air and an even colder
