Since then, the crow’s come back every day at sunset. It sits there for exactly an hour, tilting its head this way and that, feathers flashing blue in the fading sunlight.
Some people are afraid of the office environment; I sympathize. Ari, who has spent a full five years of his life at a job that is clearly intended as a stepping-stone, once told me that the only thing worse than being in the office is being out in the field. I had just started with our group and I had no idea what he meant but I tried to be polite, an effort I now realize was lost on him.
The scrambling section required concentration, and so Jonathan and Ben didn’t say very much to each other before finally making it to the blustery overlook. Jonathan zipped up his fleece jacket and looked out at the small islands dotting the cerulean Norwegian sea. On one of the closer islands, two small bright red houses perched on stilts above the rocks in the dissipating fog. Ben’s yellow windbreaker obviously wasn’t warm enough and his shoulders hunched forward in the wind. Did he even notice how beautiful it was here?
Suzanne shakes her head, says, “When the building comes tumbling down, does it really matter if you’re trapped on the first or the fortieth floor?”
Claire smiled. “But how did you know?”
“How did I—give me a break. You’re riding on stories. Prairies and plains, right outside the window, and you’re looking at neck wrinkles? It’s a no-brainer, dear.”