He sets the folder on his lap, then adds the other two from his briefcase, all of near equal thickness.  He drives off, drumming his fingers along the top cover, and ends up behind Rose’s Kitchen.  He parked next to the dumpster.

He rolls down the driver’s side window.

“Apparently this is the best I’m ever going to be.”  He glances around.  Two boys ride by on their bikes.  They wave at him.  He waves back.

The back door to Rose’s swings open.  It’s Rose herself, hefting a pair of bulging black garbage bags in each hand.