The clerk carried it up to the bench.

The judge read it with his glasses pushed low on his nose.

“Sir,” he said to Charles, “did you fill this out?”

“The front desk must have pulled old records from our divorce file,” Charles said, fast and louder than the room needed.

“They do that.”

“In your handwriting?”

“I may have copied it from memory.”

Behind me, Marisol Herrera smoothed a printout under her thumb and made a small sound through her nose.