For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

Brenda opened a familiar manila folder.

“I have the standard routing forms printed for your signature, Arthur.

It’ll go through exactly like last year.”

“Listen here, Brenda,” I said.

“I’m changing the procedure this time.

I’m requesting a formal, in-person closing meeting.”

Brenda stopped typing.

She looked at the folder and then back at me.