Her hands were already beginning to itch from the mere thought of her old cleaning routine. She’d spent the morning scrubbing the kitchen, only to have her palms flare up in a red, angry map of hives. A latex allergy was a new development—a gift from her immune system that she hadn't asked for. "Looking for something specific?"

Maya jumped. A pharmacist, tucked behind a high counter, was watching her struggle.

"Gloves," Maya said, holding up her slightly swollen hands. "But not those gloves. My doctor says I'm officially 'allergic to the outdoors,' or at least the rubber parts of it."

"What about right now?" Maya asked. "I've still got a half-bleached bathroom waiting for me."