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something together. Would you be able to help me with that?”
    “Are you applying for another job?” he asked in a hushed tone, leaning forward as well.
    I glanced over my shoulder. “I haven’t told anyone yet, and I don’t want to spread it around unless there’s a good chance I’ll get it, and I have to apply first. Do you have some time this morning?”
    “This feels very secret agent-ish,” he replied. “I’m in.” He lifted his feet off the desk, reached for his mouse and pulled up a new screen. “Do you know the dates of the stories you want?”
    “Only roughly. I’d like to grab that interview I did with the mayor about his embezzling staffer. That happened in February.”
    “I remember,” he said. “I should be able to find that, no problem.” Within a few seconds, Gerry had located it and copied it to a flash drive.
    “And the hostage situation in 2010,” I said. “There was no cameraman, but I was nearby and the first reporter on the scene. Remember? Bob had me cover it from my cell phone until the rest of the team got there.”
    He gave me an appreciative, sideways glance. “Of course I remember. You were amazing that day.”
    I grinned at Gerry before he returned his attention to the screen and resumed scrolling through lists of files.
    “This might be it.” He clicked on a link, but it brought up one of the follow-up stories.
    “It could be the one right before that.” I pointed.
    “Got it.” He opened the file and found the right piece. We watched the whole thing together, then he copied it onto the flash drive as well. “Any others you want?”
    “Yes, if you have a bit more time. Do you mind?”
    “Not at all. Shoot.”
    I wracked my brain, thinking back to all the stories I’d done over the years, and the ones I was most proud of. “I’m not sure about the exact date,” I said, “but do you remember when that Physics professor at UW was arrested for drug trafficking? I did that in-depth interview with the president of the university after the prof was arrested.”
    “Wasn’t that 2007 or 2008?” Gerry asked, with a furrowed brow.
    I chewed on my lower lip. “I’m not sure. It was a couple of years after I first started here, which was 2004. Can you do a search for the University of Washington?”
    His fingers flew across the keys. Then he laid his hand on the mouse while we waited for a directory to pop up.
    “What about that one?” I said, pointing again. “It has my name on it.”
    Gerry called up the file and pressed the play button. A wide shot of the university appeared, along with the sound of my voice, introducing the piece. I began to talk about the challenges and odds of getting accepted into some of the grad programs, and realized this wasn’t the story I was searching for.
    “I don’t think this is it,” Gerry said. He reached for his mouse and was about to click the stop button, when a shock wave—like a buzzing electric current—surged through me.
    “Wait! Don’t stop it!” I grabbed Gerry’s arm and his mouse went flying off the desk.
    “Why? What is it?”
    I couldn’t seem to make my mouth work. All I could do was stare with wide eyes and a racing heart at the face on the screen—the golden-haired young man who was spellbindingly familiar. I knew those eyes. I’d seen laughter in them, sadness, anger, heartbreak. Even his voice filled me with a bewildering sense of intimacy.
    Gerry rolled his chair backwards to pick up the mouse from the floor behind him.
    “I know that guy,” I said, rather breathlessly as I read the caption at the bottom of the screen.
    Chris Jenson
    First Year Student, UW School of Dentistry
    “Of course you do. You interviewed him.”
    “No, I mean…I know him from somewhere else.”
    Gerry wheeled his chair back to the desk, replaced the mouse on the pad, and watched me intently. “From where?”
    I exhaled heavily, struggling with how to reply, because I couldn’t possibly reveal the truth. “I don’t