Chapter 5: The Office That Wasn’t
This time he did turn into the office park. I parked farther down the access road and watched him enter the building where his company leased space. From the outside everything looked correct: badge at the door, familiar glass lobby, the same elevators I had seen during the rare evenings I picked him up. The discrepancy was no longer about location. It was about the thirty-seven minutes that had preceded it—time he had not accounted for, in a building he had never mentioned, on a morning that had begun with a message about the perfection of the previous night. I stayed until I was certain he was inside for the day, then drove home by a different route. The address of the brick building remained in my phone. The time stamps remained in my head.
