I leaned back in the wooden kitchen chair, resting the cool glass of the phone against my knee, and watched the digital clock in the corner of the screen change from 3:34 AM to 3:35 AM.

A thin progress bar appeared along the bottom of the screen, showing that the last security sweep was unlinking every remaining shared account from my personal ID number.

The blue line crept steadily across the black glass, past eighty percent, then ninety, as the bank cut every financial wire running from my paycheck to the house on Maple Street.

I watched the progress bar on my phone hit one hundred percent as the last account came unlinked.

I laid the phone facedown on the laminate table and picked up my mug.