That was the receipt in his shirt pocket.

The first two entries were older, and I remembered them now as brief remarks across the kitchen: he had smelled something near the curb; he had made another call; someone would be coming out.

I had heard all three episodes as versions of the same small inconvenience.

They had happened over a month.

“He could have told me how worried he was,” I said.

“He could have,” Ruth answered.