I stood up and walked to the pantry to put my mug in the sink, the tile floor cold beneath my bare feet.
The house felt vast and silent around me, five thousand square feet of custom masonry and plaster that we had bought after my promotion to CFO.
I picked up my car keys from the granite counter, the heavy metal fob cold in my palm.
My Mercedes sedan was parked in the second stall of the garage, its windshield clear and its tank full.
I decided to drive to the downtown office before the roads became impassable, hoping to review the physical ledgers in my old office before anyone arrived.
The snow was falling thicker now, covering the flagstone patio in a thick, white sheet that blurred the edges of the lawn.
The corporate office of Rollins Global was nearly quiet when I walked through the glass doors at seven.
Only a few security guards and a night-shift janitor were moving through the carpeted hallways of the third floor.
I spent four hours in my old office, reviewing the physical ledgers for the real estate division’s southern acquisitions.
