Page 11

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, it’s four. I’ve signed four pages before. I signed more than that on the house.”

She waits to see whether there’s more.

There isn’t.

I take the pen with my left hand.

I notice that I’ve done it. I sign anyway.

“Had a woman come out of here a minute ago.”

“We get a lot of those.”

“This one took my arm off with a bag.”

“Did she apologize?”

“She said sorry. She didn’t stop.”

“That sounds right.”

I sign the second line. “She work here, or does she just come by and injure people?”

“She works here. Physical therapy.”

“Good for her.”

“She has a doctorate in it.”

“Overachiever.”

“Mm.”

I look up. “What’s that mean?”

“It meant good luck.”

I take the clipboard back when she offers it. “You’re enjoying this more than reception should.”

“A little.”

“Why?”

She taps the appointment line instead of answering.

Astrid Nilsson. Eleven thirty.

Through the glass, the space where the truck was.

“Huh.”

“Mm.”

“She doesn’t know yet, does she.”

“She’ll find out this afternoon.”