Someone had penciled a note in the margin long ago and never erased it: Ask Ruth to frame this one.

She’ll say it’s showing off.

I touched the loop with my thumb.

In eleven years, he had never once mentioned that he owned the building I ate lunch in.

At eight thirty the next morning, Derek Vance laid a single sheet of paper on my desk and turned it so the words faced me.

His signet ring tapped the laminate once, then twice.

Notice of Immediate Suspension, the page read.