She was in her late sixties, and trusted Luis for being the closest of them to her own age. She often gave him complicated projects that had to do with the design and workings of the whole department, and had hinted to him that she was trying to groom him for her job — if he wanted it. But who knew what Luis wanted? But who knew what Luis wanted? He talked about art and music, but in a removed way, as if, even though he liked those things, they had really nothing to do with him…He talked about art and music, but in a removed way, as if, even though he liked those things, they had really nothing to do with him; he said himself that he had dicked around his youth, joined the Army because he didn’t know what else to do, and, when he had found her, simply followed the determined Penny wherever she was going next. If he was up at the key counter he would more likely than not joke and laugh, especially with a girl or one of the maintenance men, but if he was sitting at his desk engrossed in something more complex — or, sometimes, even if he was only reading the news or a cartoon — and he didn’t feel like getting up, he wouldn’t. Even if it was his turn he would sometimes wait for Annika or Lizette to take it.

Usually Annika took it. She liked to give out keys. It was a good feeling to line up the new copy to the master and peer expertly down the shaft, and she liked showing off, for Luis, her cheerfulness and good humor with people. Also she loved it when Lizette was pleased with her.

“We only had the one formal,” Annika told Bobbie. “Prom was the only one we had.”

A woman came in so she stood up. Bobbie kept talking behind her, but after a moment she moved the same story into Lizette’s cubicle. The woman was fishing a crumpled piece of paper out of her big brown purse. She had black feathery hair and small annoyed eyes. Finally she handed over her slip and said, “I’m just on break, so —”

Annika smiled, then glanced at the slip and asked the woman for ID. The woman looked at her disparagingly. “Really?” she said. “That seems —” She dug again in the brown purse. “It’s just an office,” she said, pointing at the slip. “It doesn’t say it there, but it’s just a little office. Just an empty desk in there.” She pointed again.

Annika was looking at the woman’s license. When she was satisfied, she handed it back. “I know what it is,” she said pleasantly.

Electronic music tinkled from Luis’s cubicle, his cell phone going off. That made a good excuse for Annika to glance that way. It was only when she looked back at the slip that she noticed it was dated a year ago.

“This is very old,” she said to the black-haired woman.

“What? Too old?”

“And do you know who this is who signed it?” Annika squinted at the slip. “Because I can’t tell what it says, and I don’t recognize this handwriting.”

“What are you saying?” the woman said. “What, do you think people only work here for a year? Is that how old it is? I don’t know who it was. I had to go to her for a key, that’s all I know. That’s the only thing I ever had to go to her for. And I thought I was going to get it right there, but she said, ‘No, no, you have to go to these people.’”

“That’s so there’s a record.” As Annika was rubbing the limp, wrinkled paper between her fingers she felt Luis come up beside her, so she recited to the woman, “Even the President of the college has to come in here to get the key to his office, with an authorization slip signed by himself. Do you know who this is?” she asked Luis, pointing to the signature. She turned into him slightly. The woman made an awful, disgusted face. When Annika’s bent elbow brushed Luis’s arm, a trickle of heat bloomed out over her chest. She could smell hazelnut coffee on his breath.