“Those regional branch servers mix up administrative files every time they run an automatic system update,” Mark said, his voice slipping into a quick, reasonable rhythm.

“You know how outdated their software is.

They probably attached some old farm equipment inquiry to your profile.”

He bent down and picked up his heavy leather briefcase from the floor beside his desk.

“I have to review three teacher schedules before my administrative meeting tomorrow,” Mark said, snapping the brass briefcase latches shut with two quick clicks.

He pulled a small brass key from his ring, turned the lock on the latches until they caught, and walked across the room toward the closet.

I stood silently by the desk, watching Mark double-lock his leather briefcase before setting it on the closet shelf.