“That’s where accounting puts it.” She pulled the top sheet out from under my hand and tucked it into the tote.

“Sign whatever I hand you to sign,” she said, and walked out.

I shut my door and spread Derek’s receipts across the desk.

The one stamped 3:05 sat on top.

Charles had written 3:05 on that same day about that same floor, in pencil, three hours after Derek told me to think about how things look.

Anybody could jot down a time.

Anybody could carry a folder down a hall.