I set my one small suitcase on the wooden bench by the staircase and walked into the high-ceilinged library.

By four o’clock that afternoon, I sat in a glass-walled conference room on the eighth floor of the City Bank building, across from Oscar Garza.

Oscar set his leather briefcase on the polished table, tapped his brass fountain pen against his palm three times, and slid a two-page document across to me.

“This is a standard preliminary separation agreement,” Oscar said, his voice clipped and quick.

“It saves everyone time and unnecessary court filings.”