I want to hear my own front door close behind me.”

Rachel dug a pen out of her purse and tapped it against her chin.

“Lawyers don’t ask why.

They ask what the paper says.

What does the paper say?”

“Four hundred a month, month to month.

That’s what he told the officer.”

“Those aren’t the words I asked for.” She pointed the pen at my phone, face up beside the sugar packets.