“Can you prove where you were every hour of that Tuesday?”

“I keep blue spiral notebooks,” I said.

“I’ve written down every fever, every doctor visit, every grocery trip, and every dollar spent for the last four years.”

“I’ll need those notebooks,” Gary said.

“All of them.

Every personal entry you wrote that entire month.”

My throat felt tight.

Those blue spiral notebooks held my private entries about the split, my worries about paying forty-five dollars for Lily’s soccer cleats, and thoughts I had never shared with anyone.