It stayed there all morning.

The bank on Lake Street opened its lobby at eleven thirty.

I was the second person through the doors, with Maya in the carrier and the statement open on my phone.

Clara had worked that window since before Maya was born.

She leaned over the counter to look at the blanket.

“She’s grown already.”

“Fifty thousand came out of savings in September,” I said.

“There’s eight thousand eight hundred left.”