Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected

“You’re having lunch with Wilson again.”

“Most days I am.”

“There’s a version of your file where you’re a senior analyst in three years,” Megan said.

“And there’s another version where people remember you as the girl who ate lunch with the janitor.”

“Either way, they remember me.”

Her finger traveled down the page and stopped.

Line 402, third-floor sanitation, four thousand two hundred dollars, charged to underwriting.

“That doesn’t belong on that line,” I said.