On the left-hand line, right over my printed full name, was a signature written in neat, flowing cursive.

It leaned a little to the right, matching the exact slant of my handwriting, right down to the wide rounded loop on the C that I’d put on every legal form since high school.

I tapped my ring finger twice on my watch face in the dark room.

At eleven in the morning on the date stamped on that digital record, I’d been standing in front of sixty logistics supervisors in a hotel auditorium in Columbus.

I sat in the dark room staring at the scanned signature on my monitor.