Back Row by the Exit Door

Noa spent her days checking broken walls, failed stores, and the rules people built around scarce food. Then her gift kept pointing to cracks in places no one else could see, and every prediction she left behind made people trust her less. Since a fox bite in childhood, her guesses had become too sharp to ignore, and she still did not know why they worked. When a market deal turned public, her name was used against her, and the person who once praised her wanted her silenced. She carried a signed planner, a hidden tablet, and one borrowed laptop that tied two homes together. The safest path now runs straight through the people who plan to use her.