There were other moments when I remembered the receptionist’s face and wished I had begun differently.

Both could be true.

Neither changed the choice I had kept making afterward: read the records, ask the question, take the advice, make the decision, and let the people responsible do their work.

I took a sip of coffee.

No sugar.

No reason to explain the preference.

Nobody’s key in the door announcing whether the day had been successful enough.

Behind me, the repaired door closed easily in its frame.

Ahead, light lay across the water.

I set my cup beside the chair and stayed where I was a little longer.