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

There were no mortgages, no bank loans, and no strings attached.

I carried the brown folder into the small bedroom and locked it in a fireproof metal safe in the closet.

The kettle whistled.

I poured the boiling water over the grounds and let the dark coffee fill a thick ceramic mug.

I opened the refrigerator and took out the plastic bottle of cinnamon coffee creamer.

I stirred two spoonfuls into the mug.

The sweet spice blended perfectly with the bitter roast.