He drank.

He put the cup down, pushed it away, and said, “Hand me the key and all of this goes quiet.”

I slid my hand into my pocket and closed it around the key, warm from my leg, and I didn’t take it out.

The probate counter closed at five, and I walked in at twenty after four with the notice folded inside my coat pocket.

The clerk was a small woman with reading glasses hanging on a beaded chain.