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Summary
Monday morning starts bright and early with zero missed calls from a certain phone number. She has corrected all the filing mistakes, sorted out all the emails and meeting requests, and there's nothing left to do while she stares unhappily at the ticking clock.
The number is deeply etched in her memory now, ten digits that she can ramble off faster than the first twenty digits of the number pi, which pushes her fingers to move with some sort of muscle memory.
No answer, no surprise, but her heart still palpates unnaturally. The robot voice has become a close confidant.
“Hello, Ben Solo’s voicemail. You may remember me, Rey Niima, your mother’s assistant. The two people who you avoid like a newly discovered plague.” She sighs heavily. “Speaking of plagues, you might find one on your doorstep if you don't answer Leia’s calls or at least call her back. Do you have working fingers? Can you send your mother a text message at least? I’m available if you need instructions or help moving all your robot parts.”