At noon the third-floor break room was packed.

Every chair at the two long tables had a coat hung over it or a lunch bag sitting in front of it.

Somewhere behind me a microwave door slammed.

I stood in the doorway holding my paper sack and wearing my new badge.

My silver ring turned twice before I forced myself to stop.

“Sit wherever,” a woman said, and then didn’t look up.

There wasn’t any wherever.