Michael nodded slowly.

He dropped the mounting screws back into the wire basket.

He headed for the glass doors at the front with empty hands, willing to believe in the quiet morning.

At four thirty the long fluorescent tubes hummed steadily over Michael’s desk.

The late-afternoon traffic lights on Route 4 blinked red through the office window.

He squared up the sharp edges of his quarterly slide folders.

He stacked the blue cardboard covers neatly beside his monitor.