He reached for the stack of envelopes, sorting them into piles marked by the names of companies that wanted to be paid.

When he found the bank envelope again, he tucked it beneath his palm.

“Michael, is the business all right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You have been opening bills after I go to bed.”

He set the envelopes down and looked at me as if I had asked whether he remembered his own birthday.

“Have you been sleeping enough?

You seem to be worrying about every little expense lately.”