Neither one looked up as their coat sleeves brushed mine on the narrow sidewalk.

I stood on the sidewalk of the town square while people I knew walked past without saying hello.

I left the square and drove three blocks south to the red brick building on Third Street.

Keith’s office was on the second floor over an accounting firm and smelled of paper dust and rubbing alcohol.

Keith put my printout under a lighted magnifying glass on his wide oak desk.

He moved the glass two inches to the left, then picked up his three fountain pens and laid them out in a neat parallel row beside his blotter.