I stood by the curb and watched her back out over the gravel, her brake lights glowing a dull red as she turned onto Allegheny River Boulevard.

The strip mall sat two miles down the road, with the office tucked between a shoe repair shop and an empty dry cleaner.

Inside Arthur’s office, the air smelled of lemon furniture polish and old paper from the drawers of his wooden desk.

Arthur sat in his tall brown swivel chair in a gray cardigan with the bottom button undone.

He took a white cloth napkin out of his front pocket, removed his wire-rimmed glasses, and began wiping the lenses in slow circles.