It started with a document.
He was back in Atlanta for two days one more site visit, a handover meeting he'd asked to attend in person. We'd agreed to work through the Henderson final review together afterward. My office. Six o'clock. Efficient use of time while he was in the building.
That was the logic, and I'd believed it.
By half six it was just the two of us. His side of the document on his laptop, mine on the desk screen, the building mostly empty around us. The heating clicked off at six and the office went that specific November quiet deeper than daytime quiet, with a quality that made you aware of how little was between you and the street five floors below.
We worked. It was good. The Henderson file had been a problem for six weeks and within forty minutes we'd found the knot
