“I’ve had a lot to think about,” I said.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

I watched him butter a slice of bread, the same ordinary motion he had made at our table for eleven years.

“I wish that were something I didn’t have to think about,” I replied.

PART 6 — A Signature I Had Not Written

The loan officer was named Elena Ortiz.

She greeted me in a conference room with a glass wall overlooking the bank’s lobby.

I had expected to be told that no application existed.