“David sent a paralegal over with an inventory list on Tuesday.

Your coats were hanging in the hall closet.

The rest was in the garage behind the recycling bins.”

I laid the envelope on the hood and opened it.

The decree slid out as a thick stack, Judge Alvarez’s signature in blue ink on the final page and the county seal pressed into the corner.

Page four held the property settlement.

The space I’d left blank in November was filled in now, in David’s narrow handwriting.