Sarah’s envelope was on the passenger seat where I had put it at six that morning.

The school wanted the winter term paid by Friday, and I had used the word guaranteed.

I thought about the eleven minutes on the gravel.

I thought about the forty-one percent.

The anger had nowhere to sit in that car and no shape I could hold, so it went into my hands.

I turned the key.

The Buick pulled to the left on its own, so I kept both hands low on the wheel and let the city decide for me.

I passed the exit for the office.