I flipped the lid back.

The smell of old paper and stale dust rose into the air.

Two thick manila folders sat on top of our birth certificates, our car titles, and three years of joint tax returns.

I took out the first folder.

The cardboard was heavy in my hands.

I opened it against the hallway wall.

The heading on the first page was printed in bold black letters.

It read Voluntary Transfer of Physical and Legal Custody.