Derek was behind the metal counter sorting invoices.

Michael unzipped his briefcase and took out his Apex Credit Union statements.

He spread the white printouts across the greasy counter.

Derek wiped black oil off his hands with an orange shop rag.

He looked down at the highlighted balances and the recent forty-five-dollar receipt for a blue plastic booster seat.

“You’re eight hundred dollars short,” Derek said in his low, gravelly voice.

“My rent’s due on the first,” Michael said.