You stood by the main entrance, fingers brushing the cool metal of the revolving door frame. The automatic doors hissed open and shut, open and shut, each time releasing a puff of antiseptic air. You didn't go in. You were waiting. Thinking. Counting the tiles beneath your feet in a pattern only you understood.

A security guard glanced at you from behind his desk, then back at his monitor. He didn't approach. You'd been standing there for twenty-three minutes.

The door to the administrative wing clicked open. A man in a long white coat stepped out, briefcase in hand, keys jingling in the quiet. He was tall, silver-haired at the temples, with steady eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. He stopped when he saw you.