Most of them dressed the way he imagined bank people dressed — smooth fabrics, clean shoes, the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing exactly where you were going and why. He looked down at his shirt, ran a hand over the front of it, picked up the folder from the passenger seat, and got out.
It was nine thirty in the morning. His appointment was at ten. Inside, the lobby was larger than he’d expected. Cool air, pale marble floors, the low hum of something financial happening in every direction.