THE SECOND MORNING
I arrived at eight twenty.
Twenty-eight minutes earlier than I needed to.
The receptionist looked up when I walked through the glass doors, smiled politely, and returned to her computer. The security guard from yesterday recognized me and nodded once as I signed my name in the register.
Already, the building felt less unfamiliar.
Not familiar.
Just less unfamiliar.
There is a difference.
The elevator carried me to the executive floor in complete silence except for the soft music that seemed to exist only to remind people that silence had been considered and improved upon by management.
When the doors opened, the corridor was almost empty.
The lights were already on.
The cleaners had finished their work before dawn, leaving behind polished floors and the faint
