I stayed in the chair, listening to the pharmacy downstairs close its register and lock its front door.

Samuel printed the final page, checked the file number once more, and slid it across the desk for me to read.

“Tomorrow morning, we ask for the certified statement.

Until then, do not accuse either of your parents of signing something they may dispute.”

I read the request from top to bottom and signed beneath his name.

Samuel placed it in the blue folder, then looked again at the index entry.

“One more point, Mauricio.