I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name
Coffee.
Milk.
Have the handle repaired.
The old card went into the inner pocket.
The current access information and the list went where I could find them.
There was room for all of it.
I closed the clasp and set the bag beside the door.
Tomorrow, I would buy groceries before I bought anything else.