He stepped into the elevator to go back up to his office and waved at me through the glass.

I waved back with the folder against my chest.

The doors closed.

I stood there until the light above them came back down to G.

Ruth caught me at the reception desk on my way out and pressed a second butterscotch into my hand.

“For the car,” she said.

“You seem tired, honey.

It’s a lot of paper, isn’t it?”