There's a pool table in the far corner of the lunch area, yellow-felted, never used. Beside it an entertainment center with a four whimsically upholstered chairs, a TV and a Wii. Also never used. In fact, almost no one ever uses the room, except to brew coffee from the hissing, burping espresso machine, to find a fork, to maybe take an apple from the bottomless bowl of fruit.

A man and a woman sit tittering in a booth, imagining that no one knows about their affair.

Through the picture windows across West Houston an ancient, solitary building stands a little crooked in the sun, peering at what little seems to happen here.