At the DMV counter on Main Street at half past one, the fluorescent lights hummed loudly overhead.

I laid the blue folder flat on the high counter.

Inside was the signed title release form, stamped by the notary at the attorney’s office an hour earlier.

The clerk behind window four wore a laminated name tag that read Brenda.

She looked at the paperwork, then over her reading glasses at me, then at Ethan standing beside me.

“Which one of you is applying for the clear title?” Brenda asked.

“I am,” I said, sliding my driver’s license across the tray.