“For now.”
“What exactly do you want?”
Daniel looked at the room.
“I want you to remember what you’re responsible for.”
“Shareholder value?”
Daniel almost smiled.
“That too.”
He put the watch back on.
“But you are not responsible only for profits.”
“That isn’t realistic.”
Daniel’s face softened.
“What isn’t realistic is believing hundreds of people will give you the best years of their lives and ask nothing in return except a deposit every two weeks.”
He walked toward the door.
Richard called after him.
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“You retired.”
Daniel looked back.
“I did.”
Then he left.
But he did not go home.
He took the freight elevator downstairs.
The smell reached him first.
Cardboard.
Machine oil.
Coffee.
Dust.
A forklift warning beep echoed through the building.
Something inside Daniel loosened.
An older employee named Sam Weaver noticed him near receiving.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Daniel turned.
“Sam.”
Sam grinned.
“Thought you disappeared.”
“Apparently not completely.”
Sam shook his hand with both hands.
“You look good.”