He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door frame before reaching into a glossy black shipping box.

“Is that some new computer part?” I asked, stopping by the archway.

“It’s an RTX four thousand series graphics card,” Brent said.

He didn’t look up from the shiny anti-static bag he was ripping open.

“My old setup kept dropping frames every time I tried to stream.”

“What did it cost?” I asked.

Margaret put the plate with the ribeye steak down on the coffee table next to his elbow.

“It was on sale,” Brent said.