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Pouring my coffee from a full urn in Ravi’s kitchen, I pulled the phone from my ear and tried to hit the red circle one-handed, only to have it slip from my hand onto the tile floor. I grumbled, set down the urn, and bent to pick it up.

The glass screen had splintered into a million fragments.

“No, no, no!” I ran my fingers over the glass, microscopic chips dusting away under my fingers.

“What happened?” Ravi asked with a yawn, entering the kitchen still in his PJs.

“I shattered my screen.”

He peeked over my shoulder and sucked a breath through his teeth, then reached for the urn. I played with my phone for a few more moments, relieved to find it still worked, though viewing everything splintered would likely give me a headache, and I’d have to be careful not to cut myself.

At least I wouldn’t have to buy a new one. Not yet, anyway.

Ravi leaned on the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee. “What’s on the docket today?”

I set the phone gently on the granite. “Existential crisis research.”

Pressing his lips together, he gazed thoughtfully into his mug. “A SWOT analysis?”

“Exactly.”

At the front of the house, the door squeaked open. “Good morning, people!” Maribel called.

“In the kitchen,” Ravi shouted.

Her bouncing steps dashed down the hall before she appeared, black curls swept into a ponytail, and sweat gleaming on her brown skin. Her fashionable running clothes looked adorable on her tiny body.

“How are we this morning, my favorite people in the world?” she asked.

I faux-glared at her chipper demeanor. “I shattered my phone screen.”

Ravi yawned again. “I’m still half-asleep.”

Maribel strutted up to him and kissed him loudly on the mouth. “Well, I need a shower. Y’all can be fuddy-duddies together.”

And just like that, the tornado was gone.

After she and Ravi left for the day, I donned a pair of comfy sweats and curled up on the couch. Before me sat my computer, open to a SWOT matrix. I’d first taken to using the SWOT analysis to help my decision-making in high school, ensuring that I’d considered all factors before embarking on a course of action. The practice had served me well over the years, and I didn’t expect it to fail now.

I started with Strengths. First, I was good at the job. I enjoyed it when I wasn’t being insulted or stolen from. I liked to tap into my creative side.

My Weaknesses were obvious. I didn’t work well with my team and had trouble relating to them.

In the Opportunities quadrant, I typed three large dollar signs. Additionally, the chance to further my friendships with Ivy and Bennett could not be ignored. For a long moment, my fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to type “Cam” into my potential opportunities, but then I relived that conversation with Shep—You will never be a Shepherd—and I added Cam’s name to my Weaknesses quadrant instead.

Last, I moved to the Threats quadrant, where I typed a single word: Shep.

Once finished, I studied my matrix, spending most of my time weighing three factors: Shep, Cam, and the dollar signs.

My shattered phone buzzed on the sofa beside me, and the screen lit up with a text notification from Cam. Adrenaline spiked as I grabbed the device, eager for any contact from him.

I hope you aren’t busy. My mother has asked me to invite you to tea again this Sunday.

Really? Did you tell her what happened?

I’m still hoping you’ll come back. I thought it best not to. I told everyone you have the flu.

I laughed. What a sneaky, little⁠—