I pulled the Toyota into the fourth stall on the left, centering the tires between the fresh yellow lines.

A green aluminum sign was mounted on a steel post right in front of my bumper.

The painted white letters read: RESERVED, IRIS COLLINS, REGIONAL STRUCTURAL DIRECTOR.

I put the car in park and switched off the ignition.

The engine settled into silence without a rattle or a stall.

I stepped out into the crisp morning air, took my briefcase off the passenger seat, and walked around to the front bumper.

The silver paint on the hood was a little dull near the passenger headlight, where slush on the interstate near Tacoma had chipped the clear coat four years ago.