Five Audited Bank Receipts Proved What Julian Had Done Before Noah Was Born

I had folded thirty-four heavy bath sheets by three thirty in the morning, my fingers stiff and swollen around the rough seams.

Brenda Cole set a bag of crushed ice against my left ankle and pushed a tall hamper of damp towels out of the narrow aisle.

“Sit down on the folding chair, Vivian,” she said, pulling the metal frame over to the folding counter.

I stayed on my feet, stacking two more bath towels on the hotel laundry cart.

“I have six more bins of hotel linen to finish before the night manager checks the basement log at five.”

“The night manager is asleep in his office,” Brenda said.