The mug Sophie had painted was still on the corner of the desk, blue flowers climbing over the rim, one petal wandering onto the handle.

The astronaut stood beside it with his visor up.

IT had locked the computer and left everything else exactly where it was.

Four years of work, and the desk looked like the desk of a man who had stepped out for a sandwich.

Through the glass wall of the conference room, I could see the back of Gavin’s neck.

It had gone the color of a boiled shrimp, and his shirt collar was dark along the fold.

Four people sat with him.