My hand cramped by the fourth signature.

It felt exactly like gripping a dental scaler through a double shift on a busy Saturday.

“This is a thirty-year commitment,” Tom said.

“The monthly payment is going to test your limits.”

“I’m keeping the Saturday shifts in Hastings,” I said.

“We have the budget locked down.”

Luke took the pen and signed his name right next to mine.

He stared at the yellow sticky note still taped to Tom’s computer monitor, with our absolute limit written on it in black ink.