Sam was already dressed when I came downstairs. He hastily got us and sized me with his gaze.

"We'll leave together," he said. "It looks better."

There was no room in the sentence for refusal. In the car he made the kind of small talk that existed only for drivers and windows - weather, a dinner later in the week, a comment about the collaboration needing tighter coordination.

I wondered why he was being so reasonable today. Why was he acting like he got his soul swapped. I answered enough to keep the surface intact. When the building came into view I turned my head toward him.

After a while,...