The change in her demeanor is a brutal record scratch. Gone is the chatty woman who used to share her lunch with me and tell me stories about each animal. In her place is someone almost painfully professional, her spine straight as a ruler.
"Mrs. Chen." Sam nods, and somehow, even that small gesture carries the weight of command. "How are the renovations coming along?"
Renovations? I scan the lobby, really seeing it for the first time. Now that he mentions it, the signs of newness are everywhere. The scuffed linoleum I remember has been replaced with clean tile. New kennels line the walls, the metal gleaming. Even the air smells fresher.
That's when I spot it. The bronze plaque mounted beside the intake area:
"Chicago Animal Haven
Renovated through the generous support of the Litvinov
