At eleven sharp, Thomas came out through the glass double doors.

He had a thick manila envelope tucked under his left arm.

He wore a charcoal gray suit and a plain blue tie.

I got out of my truck and met him on the concrete sidewalk.

Thomas straightened his rimless glasses.

He drew a thick stack of stapled pages out of the envelope.

“The judge has signed the final order,” Thomas said.

He passed me the document.