Bob Cunningham was sitting in the break room, leafing through a videogame magazine and generally trying to look like he belonged while waiting for his shift to start.
"First day?" a woman asked as she sat down across from him. She was in her late thirties-- possibly early forties--and immediately struck Bob as being someone who was not to be trifled with. Her nametag read "Kendall," which wasn't a name he thought he had ever heard before.
"Yeah. It's kind of a cool story, too. What's-his-name, Shane, interviewed me yesterday. ..." Bob let his voice trailed off as he realized that she wasn't paying any attention to his story (too bad, too; he at least thought it was kind of interesting that he had a message offering him the job later that afternoon). Instead, she was examining his face with an intensity he had never seen before.
"Bob, huh," Kendall said after a moment or two. "Were you named after your father, or an uncle or something?"
"No," Bob replied, "not that I'm aware of. Why?"
Kendall paused, and Bob thought he saw her features soften for an instant. Then the instant passed, and she shook her head. "Nothing. You just reminded me of someone I knew once."
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