My husband left his medication at home, so I stopped by his office to bring it to him. But when I asked the receptionist to call him downstairs, she said, "Ma'am, your husband has been on leave for the past week."

There is a desk with a woman behind it. There is a waiting area with about eleven chairs in it, four of them occupied, and a water machine in the corner.

There is a rack of leaflets. I read four of the titles without meaning to.

And there is a board on the wall to the left of that desk with four department names on it.

I read all four of them standing in that entrance with my car keys still in my hand.

I read the second one twice.

A woman behind that desk asked me if she could help.

I had been standing in the middle of that floor for about eleven seconds without moving.

And I heard myself say: "I'm looking for my husband. Emeric Vance."

My own voice, from about four feet away from me.

And she said: "Are you Mrs Vance?"

Not do you have an appointment.