He grabbed his leather briefcase off the floor, cleared his throat loudly, and walked out into the carpeted hallway without looking back.

Brad sat without moving for three long seconds, staring at the framed degree on the wall behind Patricia’s head.

He pushed the pen across the blotter, picked up his brass truck key, and walked out the door without saying a word.

Patricia picked up the paper, checked the blue notary stamp in the bottom corner, and handed the original across the desk to me.

“He wired the twelve thousand into Kurt’s bank account at nine this morning,” Patricia said.