Imogen asked whether he still had it.

And my father said: “It’s in the desk.”

He came to the shop on the ninth of August in a taxi, which cost him fifty-one dollars he did not have, and he brought it in a manila envelope, and he would not sit down and he would not take a cup of anything.

It is one sheet, typed on the millwork letterhead, dated the twenty-second of November 1994, eight days after the trust was executed and four months before Arthur Thorne died.

It is addressed to Dear Thad.