We were recently informed via e-mail of the fait accompli retirement of Glitza Gardenia, a woman who had labored in the administrative trenches of our organization for over three decades. Despite efforts of her manager — the author of the e-mail in question — to honor these years of unflinching service, Glitza refused to consider even the smallest tribute, and even went so far as to decline the customary aluminum pin inscribed with her name alongside that of the company for which she had so long toiled; instead she left after her final afternoon as if it were no different than any other, and provided her colleagues with no forwarding address or other contact information.

These days, as the sun begins its to quicken its descent, it is easy to imagine the amber glow of the buildings around Glitza as she pushes through the revolving door for the last time and pauses to confront the frenetic energy of the five o’clock street. She stands in disbelief as she considers the many years that seem at this moment to have passed in a second; she thinks of all the people inside she will never see again; it is exhausting to consider, but she feels no remorse, only an almost staggering relief as she thinks of going to sleep for hours and hours. She walks forward slowly, out of step with the other commuters but oblivious to their impatience, knowing that the next time she wakes up, she will belong to no one.