"It's fine," I add of the creepiness, with a faint wave of my hand. He seems to get the context, and there is something really wrong about encouraging this particular man to keep going on about my usefulness.

I left my coat on a hook by the front door, and I step over to shoulder it on with a glance back his way. "Over two and a half years," I answer with a wry arch of my eyebrows. It's a double-edged sword for some people, learning how long some of us have been here. On the one hand, we've gotten pretty good at weathering the weirdness storm and can help others do the same. On the other, we're still here, with no better insight for it.