There was a particular reason she wouldn’t so much as glance at the signature line.

I picked up the paper and slipped it back into my faded blue folder.

I shut the cardboard cover and carried it upstairs to my childhood bedroom.

The air in the room was suffocating.

The ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, doing nothing but pushing the hot air back down toward the carpet.

I dragged my one black suitcase out from under the bed and laid it open on the mattress.

I took my time folding my uniform shirts.