A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
“Thank you, Jordan, but I have already completed the signature,” she said, her voice ending on that familiar, quiet beat. “The routine is already established.”
I checked my wristwatch the moment she stopped speaking. It was exactly ten past seven.
At my office cubicle at two in the afternoon, the steady hum of the ventilation system did not help me concentrate on the quarterly resource allocation spreadsheet. I picked up my desk phone and dialed the direct extension for the state university molecular biology department, asking for Dr. Claire Vance.
“Jordan,” Claire said, her voice coming through the receiver in a rapid, enthusiastic burst. “It has been years. Are you still optimizing supply chains for Mid-Valley?”
“I am still managing the systems division,” I said, leaning back against my fabric partition. “I actually called to ask you about Anna.”
There was a sudden pause on the line, followed by the faint click of plastic.
“Anna,” Claire said, and I could picture her adjusting her glasses with her middle finger. “We haven’t heard from her since she withdrew from the graduate track. We all thought she went to Chicago or Boston. She was the sharpest mind in our graduating class, Jordan, and we all expected her to lead the department.”
