A bank security guard walked past me holding a clipboard.

“Can I help you find a loan officer?” the guard asked.

“No, thank you,” I said.

“I’m just leaving.”

I turned and walked back out through the glass double doors into the winter afternoon.

I merged onto the highway as the streetlights began to flicker on.

At six o’clock, the cool evening air settled over our home.

Evelyn and I sat side by side on a wooden bench on the garden terrace.