A man feeding a parking meter turned to stare at me and dropped his quarters into the gutter.

Two women standing by the glass doors of the county clerk’s office backed away as I reached the bottom granite step.

A young newspaper photographer sitting in the front seat of a parked car rolled his window down and lifted his camera.

The shutter clicked three times in quick succession before I made it to the top landing.

I paid him no attention and kept my eyes on the huge bronze handles of the main entrance doors.

In the marble lobby the air smelled of wet wool coats, floor polish, and old steam radiators.