Valerie Came Home From Deployment to Find Her Twelve-Year-Old Daughter in Intensive Care

“Good,” the clerk said.

“Bring the binder to the window at eight fifteen.

No refunds if you miss the slot.”

I counted out five hundred dollars in twenties, tens, and four fives.

That was the last of my cash.

The clerk counted it twice, stamped the summons, and slid a pink receipt under the glass.

“Friday, nine o’clock, courtroom 302,” she said.

Marisol pulled her coat closed.