The deposit was written.

The envelope was gone.

The drawer was still half open, its track pushed back crooked on one side, a quarter inch of metal showing where it should not.

I did not put the checkbook in that drawer.

I did not see the receipt go.

And no one in this house wanted to talk about a brochure.

I stared down at the crooked drawer track in the kitchen.

The drawer slid in crooked because the left runner had been bent, and I stood there with my hand still on the handle, wondering how a person bends a drawer runner without noticing.