I put the folder down on the granite counter and pulled out the property lien document.

I held the open bottle over the kitchen sink and tipped it upside down.

The amber beer splashed against the stainless steel drain.

I watched the foam wash away while I stared straight at my own forged signature on the county paper.

I folded the legal page precisely in half.

The crease felt sharp under my thumb.

I pushed through the back screen door and stepped out onto the brick patio.

The screen door banged shut behind me with a loud clap of wood.