I left the spare brass pantry key lying in the middle of the oak table.

Brenda followed me out of the conference room, pulling the heavy door shut until the latch clicked.

The school hallway was silent except for the faraway hum of a vacuum cleaner at the other end of the building.

“Clara,” Brenda said, stopping near the glass display case full of students’ clay pots.

I turned around to face her.

“I had to follow the compliance rules when that document landed on my desk,” Brenda said.

“I know you did,” I said.