"Fine," I said to the empty kitchen. "We are doing this."
I grabbed the lunchbox, locked the door behind me, and drove downtown.
The closer I got to Jeremy's office, the more out of place I felt.
The streets grew crowded and impatient.
Cars honked. People crossed in front of traffic like they had personal agreements with death. The buildings rose higher, all glass and sharp corners, reflecting the pale sky back at itself.
Jeremy's office building looked exactly the way I had imagined it. Tall, polished, cold, and expensive. The lobby smelled like coffee, floor cleaner, and money.
People moved through it like they had been trained. Everyone was walking fast, wearing badges, carrying laptops, looking like they had somewhere important to be.
Meanwhile, I stood there with a lunch bag like somebody's mom on a school trip.
I suddenly became aware of everything. The way my sneakers squeaked faintly on the marble floor. The way my sweater hung off one shoulder. The way the security guard glanced at me, not rudely, but long enough for me to feel like I needed to explain myself.
