I looked down at the folder in my hand.

“How much?”

“Plenty.”

The hotel room had two lamps and a closet rod that sagged in the middle.

I packed up everything that belonged to me.

I folded my laptop charger into a neat square and set it on top of the clothes.

The manila folder lay on the bed, fatter now with the eviction notice, the bank receipt, and the PI report.

I opened it and checked the date stamp on the front page.