It occurred to me as I sat there waiting that it could be nice to make some remark about it—the harpoon, rather. I could not recall ever having mentioned it before, and I felt it might strike a friendly tone at the outset of our conversation. Who among us did not like to have their family heirlooms inquired about?

I thought then with some compunction of my mother’s writing desk, which had been sitting neglected in my living room ever since her death. The truth was that I had never liked it, and I suspected that she hadn’t liked it very much, either, because I could not remember ever having seen it in her house.

“Well,” said Professor Pindar, with a final shuffling of the papers in front of him. “That should do it. Would you mind closing the door?”

When I returned to my seat it occurred to me that I still had yet to make a remark about the harpoon. Perhaps there was still time, I thought irritatedly to myself, but before I had a chance to think of anything, Professor Pindar said:

“Well. I don’t want to presume anything, but I thought it might make sense for you and me to have a little chat.”

He looked at me as though I might have some objection, and when I did not reply he went on.

“I just wondered if this hasn’t been something of a difficult time for you.”

A pause followed. I felt my face grow unpleasantly hot.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“The things people say … Really, very few of them have any idea what they’re talking about,” said Professor Pindar. “These decisions are much more complicated than you would think. Believe me, I’ve been on the committees.”

Another bewildered silence. People were talking about … me? What could Kirstie have told him? Was it a crime to read one’s horoscope in the break room? A crime to sit beside your colleague at a lunchtime concert? Or perhaps—was it possible that he had heard of my dinner with the guest lecturer?

“The impulse is to sensationalize, of course, but really, the time it takes for anyone to actually do anything; it’s like watching ice melt.”

“I see,” I said. So, no, apparently, not about me. Or at least—I considered our conversation up until that point—so far it seemed to have been made up entirely of gibberish. And now too much time had passed for the remark about the harpoon. As usual, I had not moved quickly enough.

“Anyways,” he said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”