Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
The same title they had printed on my badge.
A different building, twelve blocks east, and a salary range that started eight thousand below what Gavin paid me.
I read it the way you read a lottery ticket.
I set the astronaut on the table beside the laptop.
Lucy had handed it to me in September, and I had carried it in my jacket pocket so long the paint had worn off the helmet.
Marlene looked at it.