Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
The air was cold, carrying the sharp scent of damp asphalt and river humidity.
I drove back to the Pine Crest Motel, past the turnoff for Elmwood Avenue.
The lights in the house where I had lived for four years would be bright, and Marcus would be sitting at the mahogany table, believing his debts were cleared and his future secured.
I parked outside room fourteen and let myself in.
The room was cold, the wall unit heater clicking as it struggled to warm the space.
I sat at the desk and opened the blue folder one last time, verifying the dates of the transfers.
The creditor meeting was scheduled for the middle of next month.
I pulled a small paper calendar from my briefcase and laid it flat on the desk.
I took a red pen from my bag, uncapped it, and drew a thick circle around the date of the meeting.
The mahogany conference table at the Broad Street bank was twice the size of the one on Elmwood Avenue, and it smelled of furniture wax.
