She had two paper cups of coffee and an expression she didn’t try to hide.

The building behind her was all dark brick and crisp lines, the sort of place that charged you for the view.

“You’re going to need this,” she said.

“And you’re going to tell me why you look like you swallowed a rock.”

I had the sandwiches in my canvas grocery tote, the one that still smelled faintly of apples.

The lobby was all pale stone, with a reception desk as long as a dining table.

A glass bowl of green apples sat on the corner, shiny and untouched.