I put the card back in my wallet.

My fingers weren’t steady.

I pressed the wallet shut and held it with both hands.

At Arthur’s office, the thick manila envelope from Friday still sat on the corner of his desk, its metal clasp bent.

A rent notice peeked out from under a stack of files.

Arthur adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses by the bridge.

“Thirty days?” he said.

“Thirty days,” I said.