Mason held the glossy photograph out toward me in the dim light of the narrow service corridor. His face lacked any trace of his usual corporate confidence, and his hand remained perfectly still while he waited for me to take the paper from his grip.
I reached my hand forward and took the photograph. The thick, glossy paper felt cold against my skin. I held the picture under the harsh fluorescent light of the ceiling, and I forced my eyes to focus on the printed image.
The photograph showed a busy city street in the middle of the afternoon. A man stood on the concrete sidewalk outside a small brick building with a bright neon sign in the window. The man wore a dark blue winter coat and a clean gray hat. He held a small white paper cup in his hand, and he was smiling at someone located just outside the camera's frame.
