“That’s actually what this is about,” he replied, already turning. “We just need to confirm it’s yours.” The office was small and overly bright. Too clean. The manager placed her bag on the desk between them and asked her to identify it. Clare nodded. Of course it was hers. She recognized the scuff near the zipper, the frayed corner she’d meant to fix.
“Thank you,” he said. Then, after a beat, “I’m going to need you to wait here a moment longer.” “For what?” she asked. He didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer to the doorway instead, positioning himself just enough to make leaving awkward without actually blocking her. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “This won’t take long.” The waiting stretched.