I walked four blocks south through the cold autumn wind to our company office on Dearborn Street.

The twelfth-floor conference room smelled of dry-erase markers and old carpet, and David was already sitting at the far end of the long glass table.

He had two black laptops open next to each other.

He didn’t look up when I pulled out a heavy leather chair.

“You missed the nine o’clock sync with the client team,” David said, tapping his thumb on his phone screen.

“I had an appointment downtown,” I said.