I signed it, dated it, wrote my service number beneath my name, and read the whole thing through once before handing it back.

“You realize this closes a door,” Douglas said.

“I understand it keeps another one open.” I pressed my palms flat on the desk until my fingers stopped wanting to fidget, then let go.

He made two copies and squared them up.

“The filing fee is eighty-six dollars.

No fee, no packet.

The clerk won’t accept it Friday.”

I wrote 86 in the margin of my copy and circled it twice.