Xerox PARC's longest straight hallway ends at the fitness center.
I was at one end of the hallway; he was at the other.
Even at 25 yards, I could tell that he was the researcher I sat next to at lunch in the cafeteria the day before (by the cut of his clothes, the way he was working his mouth around a wad of chewing gum, his dark glasses, the swing of his briefcase). I prepared my face to smile, and silently rehearsed a casual greeting: "How's it going?" That's what I planned to say. Nothing I said was impromptu those first months.
It's a long, long hall; I thought of a half dozen more pleasantries.
I narrowed our hypothetical conversation to exchanged hellos.
Momentarily parallel: I yelped hi (much louder than I expected),
and swung out my hand in a gawky half-wave.
He turned his head toward the wall,
as if he were looking for an emergency shower,