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I didn’t think anyone noticed that I hadn’t changed my clothes in a week. No one in my office said anything.

But someone did notice. Her name was Jeanette Alworth. She was a vice president of a law firm that had offices in our building. We met in the ground-floor coffee shop by accident about six months before my first encounter with Mandy.

One day the coffee shop was packed. I was sitting by myself at a table for two. Coffee and a Danish. “Excuse me, would you mind terribly if I sat here?” she asked.

“I’m Jeanette,”

“Matt.”

We didn’t talk much, but two weeks later, “it’s Matt, right? Do you mind?”

This time there were plenty of seats in the coffee shop. “Not at all.”

This time we talked about this and that. She appeared to be well into her fifties, divorced, three adult kids, probably close to my age, and was starting to think about retirement.

...

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