She glanced at the lunchbox in my hand.
Then she looked back at me.
Something changed in her face, but it passed so quickly I thought I imagined it.
"Oh really?" she asked. "Who's your husband? Maybe I know him."
There was no reason for my heart to tighten. It was a normal question. A friendly question. People who worked in the same building knew each other. People in offices chatted by coffee machines and sat through boring meetings together.
"Jeremy."
The effect was instant.
The color left her face.
Not faded. Left.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She stared at me for a second like she was trying to decide whether to lie, cry, or run through the elevator wall.
The beeping kept going.
My fingers tightened around the lunchbox handle.
"What?" I asked, my voice suddenly smaller. "Do you know him?"
She swallowed.
Her eyes dropped to my wedding ring, then lifted slowly back to my face.
