I heard the old refrigerator click on in the kitchen below.

Somebody had walked into a local bank branch and stolen eighty-five thousand dollars with my identity.

The envelope showed my home address under the postmark.

I slid the late notice back into its torn envelope.

I tucked it into my green travel bag, burying it deep beneath my folded civilian clothes.

I didn’t go downstairs to make coffee.

I didn’t wake my brother to ask whether he’d seen any other odd mail coming for me.

I waited for the digital clock on the nightstand to roll over to eight o’clock.