The bank logo was perfectly centered at the top of the page.

I rubbed my thumb over the ink signature at the bottom.

It belonged to a regional director whose name I didn’t recognize.

I started to wonder whether I had been completely wrong.

I opened the blue passbook to the last page.

The faded red stamp was still there.

The ink was slightly smeared from the cemetery mud, but the circle was completely clear.

I looked at the bank letter again.