Your parents teach high school in Ohio.

You drive a ten-year-old hatchback.”

I understood his disbelief, because I was not merely a surprise to him; I was a category error.

In the world Corvin lived in, a person’s worth was legible on the surface — in the car, the address, the cut of the suit, the size of the account.

That was the entire operating principle of his life.

It was how he had chosen his friends, his investors, his wife.