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This place has been good to me. Six years of good, although there were days when “good” might not have been how I would have characterized it then. Ask the Fair and Industrious Trudy, who was always there. Still: good.

Harish sends me a message. He quotes Asad, who observes, “David seems to be smiling a lot, these days.”

Then Asad walks by on his way to the coffee machine. He looks over at me. I look back at him, pulling back the corners of my mouth, exaggerating my smile.

“What?” he says.

“I’m smiling,” I say.

Seven days of smiling left.