At eight o’clock I was back in the kitchen, wiping down the stone counters with a damp cloth.

I picked up the stack of mail Daniel had left on the desk earlier in the evening.

The thick envelope from Community First Bank was in the middle of the pile.

I slid my thumb under the glued flap and tore it open.

I unfolded the three pages of our joint household account statement and laid them flat on the kitchen island under the overhead lights.

I scanned down the long column of grocery store charges and gas station receipts.