15.1

The clock is ticking, so I hurry out of the car and into the building, pep-talking myself the entire time. Out of the elevator pours a group of people around my age, probably on their way to lunch at one of the cafes peppering the business district.

I’ll be one of them soon.

I feel nothing but boredom at the idea. No exhilaration, no eagerness to get started.Shake it off, damn it.

Once I reach the tenth floor, I step up to the desk across from the elevator doors. “I’m here to see Eric Adams. We have a twelve-thirty appointment.”

Once the perky girl behind the desk announces me through her headset and offers me a seat while I wait, I take a slow look around the open, sunny reception area. People walk past, carrying folders and tablets. A couple of guys discuss last night’s baseball game while they wait for the elevator.

They’ll be my coworkers in a few days. I wonder if they ever question their choices. Everybody does, I guess, but we get through it. We honor our choices, and this was