I stopped digging my fingernails into my palms.

My hands were sweating inside my heavy coat pockets.

I thought about the bright pink eviction notice I expected to find taped to my door that afternoon, the unpaid fifty-dollar diner bill, the rusty car parked on the street with a dying engine.

“How much money is in there?” I asked.

“Can I take some out today to pay my rent?”

Mr.