Twelve hundred and forty dollars.

The first of sixteen.

The teller was a young woman named Deena who had come to my clinic three winters back for a shoulder and had finished her exercises ahead of schedule.

“It holds,” I said.

“You were the one who did the work.”

“I did everything you wrote down, and I told everybody you would fix them too.” She read the case number off the back of the draft and stamped the slip twice.

“First of sixteen.