—confused. She looked at the envelope on the conveyor belt between them. It was cream-coloured, thick, sealed with a small gold sticker that had no logo on it. He hadn’t said what it was. He had simply set it down, nodded once, and walked toward the exit before she could form a single word. The checkout line behind her had gone very still. She picked it up with two fingers. It was heavier than it looked. Her name was on the front — not her surname, just her first name, Margaret, written in careful block letters with a fountain pen. She had never been written to in fountain pen before. She looked up. The automatic doors were already closing behind him. The woman behind the register two lanes over was watching her. A teenage boy with a basket of energy drinks was watching her. Even the security guard near the…
