I folded the bank statement and slid it back into the manila envelope.

Friday morning sunlight hit the wide front window of the strip mall branch.

Luke sat beside me in one of the green vinyl chairs, his hands buried deep in his heavy coat pockets.

“He should be ready in a minute,” I said.

“My hands are freezing.”

I looked toward the glass door.

A harsh north wind was blowing a plastic grocery bag across the empty parking spaces.

March was supposed to mean spring, but this week the cold had settled right into the concrete.