The wooden chair stayed wedged under my door handle until the sun came up over Riverfront Market.

I didn’t sleep at all.

I pulled the heavy chair away from the door, and it left a dark scuff mark on the cheap paint.

I stood at my tiny bathroom sink and washed the cemetery mud off my hands, watching the dirty water spiral down the drain.

The blue savings passbook sat on my kitchen counter under the harsh yellow light of my cheap desk lamp, exactly where I had left it.

I packed the book carefully into my worn leather purse and put on my damp wool coat.