Ravenna
Most days, the office emptied out by six.
Not tonight.
By seven, it was just the two of us. Me at my desk and him at his, separated by a glass wall and a silence thick enough to sit down in. The city below the building had turned gold with streetlights. Up here, the office lights hummed and the air smelled like his cologne and the cold leather of the reports stacked between us.
He had asked me to stay late. Not asked, exactly. He had appeared in my doorway at five fifty-five, jacket still on, and said: "I need you to learn the logistics structure before tomorrow's call. Stay."
He had not waited for an answer.
So I stayed. I pulled the weapons logistics binder across my desk and started from the beginning the way he had told me to, reading each section carefully, making notes
