“Nathan can run it.”
“The systems migration?”
“Brendan has the risk log.”
“The August launch?”
“All current notes are in the shared project space. I updated everything last night.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You prepared a transition plan before resigning.”
“I didn’t want anybody else paying for my decision.”
The words landed harder than Daniel intended.
Margaret looked down.
He softened slightly.
“I appreciate what this place gave me.”
“I know.”
“But I can’t keep giving it what it asks from me.”
Margaret looked at the badge again.
“What happens now?”
Daniel thought of Lily.
“I go home.”
He spent twelve minutes clearing his desk.
After twelve years, that was all it took.
A photograph of Lily at four years old, standing barefoot on a beach with a missing front tooth and sand on her knees.
A ceramic mug she had painted at summer art camp, dark blue with uneven yellow stars.
A framed photograph of Claire laughing at something outside the frame.
A notebook full of meeting notes.
A charger.
A spare pair of reading glasses.
Three pens that probably belonged to Arcturus.
A grocery list from several Saturdays earlier.
Eggs.
Yogurt.
Coffee.
Lily’s apple juice.
No pulp.
He stared at the list longer than anything else.
His coworker Brendan Walsh appeared beside the cubicle wall holding a coffee.
“Hey.”
Daniel looked up.
Brendan’s face had the uncomfortable softness people wore when they had already heard something important but did not know whether they were allowed to know it yet.
“Hey.”
“Margaret just messaged Victor.”
“That was fast.”
“So it’s true?”
Daniel placed the grocery list into the cardboard box.
“Yeah.”
“You quit?”
“Yeah.”
“Today?”
“Apparently that’s how effective immediately works.”
Brendan did not smile.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened today.”
“Then what happened?”
Daniel lifted the box.