He looked nothing like the man who had drawled my name at me by the entrance half an hour before.

The smooth, rehearsed arrogance was stripped off him.

His tie hung loose, his hair was disordered where he had pushed his hands through it, and his eyes were red-rimmed and raw.

“Jessica,” he said, and stopped a careful three feet from my table, as if he understood he no longer had permission to come closer.

“Mike,” I said, and folded my hands in my lap, and waited.

His jaw worked while he hunted for words that would not come out sounding as small as they were.