I put the key in the ignition and left it there without turning it.

The steering wheel felt cold under my callused hands.

I looked through the dirty windshield at the suburban house.

The closed living room blinds were completely still.

Fifteen years of pity played back in my head.

Fifteen years of small loans offered in public.

Fifteen years of Desmond staring at his shoes while Ranata talked loudly about my supposedly failing soil.

It had been a carefully organized budget line.