Trevor found me by the elevators an hour later.

He looked like he hadn't slept. HR had already been to see him. He was carrying a cardboard box.

“You set me up,” he said. “With that footnote. You knew I wouldn't read it.”

“I wrote that footnote in June, Trevor,” I said. “Before you ever saw the report. It was there because it was true. You just never read it.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Do you know how hard I've worked to get where I am? Nine years. Nine years of doing everything right. Going to the right parties. Saying the right things. And some kid from Indiana State walks in and—”

“And does the work,” I said.

He stopped.

“You could have asked me to do it together,” I said. “We could have presented it together. Your name and mine. I would have said yes. I'd have been thrilled.”

He stared at me.

I don't think it had ever occurred to him.

The elevator doors opened. He stepped in with his box.

As the doors were closing, he said, very quietly, “It was a really good report.”

“I know,” I said.

The doors closed.

He left Lakeshore Grocers that afternoon.