Then he walked out with his notebook under his arm.

The door swung shut behind him, and the break room fell silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.

By four thirty the third floor had gone quiet the way it always did before the cleaning carts came up.

Megan Brooks found me at my cubicle holding a new badge.

The plastic was still in its sleeve.

She laid it on my desk and smoothed her cardigan lapels.

“Senior claims analyst,” she said.