A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
Mrs. Gable returned, holding the pages by their edges so the damp ink would not smudge. She laid them flat on the registry desk, gesturing for me to step forward.
“Here is the authorization form from the autumn semester ten years ago,” she said, pointing to a signature at the bottom of the second page.
My own name was printed at the top of the form, but the signature at the bottom was written in a small, precise hand. It was Anna’s signature, the letters perfectly formed with a slight tilt to the right.
“This shows a third-party payment,” I said, my voice sounding thin in the quiet office. “From which financial institution?”
“It was not an institution,” Mrs. Gable said, turning the page over to reveal a copy of an internal university bank draft. “It was an internal transfer from the department of molecular biology.”
I stared at the numbers on the page, the black ink stark against the gray background. Twelve thousand dollars.
“She authorized the transfer of her entire fellowship grant directly to your student account, Mr. Hayes,” Mrs. Gable said.
