The fluorescent lights at Meridian Industrial Solutions had a way of making every Monday feel exactly like the one before it.
I had spent 32 years under those lights.
That morning, I sat with my reading glasses low on my nose, reviewing production reports beside a framed photo of my late wife, Rose.
She had been gone six years, but her picture still sat where it always had, smiling at me like she knew I would work myself too hard and come home late anyway.
I tapped my pen against the desk and studied the numbers on the screen.
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I immediately decided I needed a break because my mind was foggy after working with these numbers for hours.
At ten, I went to refill my water bottle and spotted Richard, my manager, at the end of the corridor. He was moving fast, talking to a man in a dark suit I didn't recognize.
