Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

Tonight every bulb in the house was burning.

I turned off the engine and looked at the passenger seat.

The brown folder was right where I had left it.

I picked it up and opened the car door.

The cold night air hit my face as I walked up the concrete path.

I didn’t knock.

I turned the brass handle and pushed the front door open.

The hallway smelled of floor wax and old wool.