So I paid fifty-four dollars a night for a room on Route 42 where nobody knew where I was.

And the nine nights in that room are, strangely, where the whole thing turned, and I think it is because there was one table.

The room had a small table under the window, about thirty inches wide.

And for the first time since the fourteenth of October I put everything on one surface at the same time.

The passbook.

The eviction letter.

The waiver.