My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

“Yes, please,” I said.

The pneumatic tube sucked my card into the building with a loud whoosh.

I sat in the idling car.

My landlord was going to tape a formal eviction warning to my door very soon.

I had half a tank of gas and a pantry holding oatmeal and two cans of chicken soup.

The plastic tube dropped back down into the metal tray with a heavy clatter.

Inside were a thick paper envelope, a printed receipt, and my debit card.