Until my wife left.
Until the folder became something much more dangerous than I had intended.
Marissa found it Monday morning.
Not because I accidentally mailed it to her.
Because she came home while I was out at an interview.
She still had a key.
I had not changed the locks.
Why would I?
She came to collect more clothes.
According to her later, she went into my office looking for a tax document because her sister told her she needed to understand our financial situation herself.
That part mattered.
For the first time, she was trying.
She opened the wrong drawer.
Found the portfolio.
Read enough to misunderstand everything.
I came home at 11:20 and found her sitting at the dining table.
The black portfolio lay open.
My stomach dropped.
Marissa did not say hello.
