Behind me, on the credenza, sat the thirteen blue folders.

I had carried them out of the briefcase a week ago and never put them away.

The top folder had a coffee ring from the morning I signed the suspension.

I had not wiped it off.

My hand went to the desk the way it always had, tapping for the small sound of the ring.

Bare knuckle on mahogany, that was all I got.

The ring waited in the shallow dish by the lamp.