Through the large front windows, I could see the yellow leaves of the maple trees dropping onto the sidewalk.

A woman in a red coat walked past, holding a small boy by the hand, their heads tilted together as they talked.

“Do you need help with the scan files?” David asked, leaning over the counter.

“I have them sorted by date,” I said.

“Excellent,” he said.

He took his coffee mug and walked back toward his office, leaving me to the quiet work of entering names and birthdates.

The hours passed in the predictable, orderly fashion that I had spent my entire adult life learning to value.