He found it in his jacket pocket on the way home.
He'd put his jacket on at the door, Julia handing it to him, their fingers touching briefly in the exchange, neither of them making anything of it and both of them feeling it — and he'd said goodnight and walked down the stairs and out onto the street.
He was in the car when he put his hand in his pocket.
The envelope was small.
Smaller than the first one.
His name on the front in the careful large letters she used when she was trying her best.
DANIEL. PRIVIT.
He stood on the pavement outside Julia's building.
Opened the car door.
Sat in the driver's seat.
Didn't start the engine.
Opened the envelope.
The paper inside was folded three times more than necessary, the way children folded things when the folding was part of the cer
