But I am, by nature, an organized person.

And so, even as I told myself not to keep score, some steadier part of me kept the score anyway.

Every receipt.

Every bank statement.

Every screenshot of every text in which Brandon promised to pay me back.

I saved all of it, without quite admitting to myself why, in a bright blue folder that lived in the drawer beneath the microwave.

Brandon used to tease me about it — my neat little folder, my compulsive record-keeping, so unromantic.