A typist.” She set her wire-rimmed glasses down on the desk.

“This room is the only place on this post that doesn’t lie to me.

Bring the box here, not to my office.”

“Whose serial is it, ma’am?”

“You may ask.” She picked the glasses back up.

The stacks ran to the ceiling, and the aisle lights buzzed over my head.

The Fort Hood row sat behind a rolling ladder that had not moved in a long time.

Dust came off the lids in sheets.