“Morning, Brenda,” he said, pulling a blue cloth out of his drawer to wipe the edge of the counter.

“You here for the utility bill?”

“Not today, Arthur,” I said, setting my beige canvas bag on the wooden counter rail.

“I came to ask whether a pile of blue envelopes went through your sorting bins this week.”

“The high school reunion invitations?” Arthur shook his head and unhooked a ring of keys from his belt loop.

“There wasn’t a single blue envelope in the main intake tray,” he said.

“Not even one?” I asked.