a supervisor and one of her staff.
        As he spoke, I let go of my anger and thought, Man, the guy’s got a lot on his plate.
        At one point, he paused. “You’re probably getting ready to fall asleep.”
        “No,” I assured him. “Really, no. I’m always interested in hearing about things going on in your life.”
        He sighed again and sipped his coffee.
        Two women sat at a nearby table. Cars crisscrossed the intersection just beyond the patio. A large white dog, his tongue drooping heavily, sat next to a man at another table.
        I made a mental note to tell Kyle about a run-in I’d had with John Casas, my most notorious account. But for now, I wouldn’t break his momentum. I savored his detailed descriptions of people and conflicts, envisioning his office even though I’d never been there, and the characters he mentioned even though I’d never met any of them. It was like my own private reality show. I was enjoying this and would let him ramble as long as he wanted.