I could have used the morning for practice if I had been less interested in staying alive. The booking card lay beneath the notice requiring me at the lending office. I checked both times, sent the card back for cancellation, and went to hear three people describe the same bench differently.
Aiden was already there.
Tarin stood beside him with the bag held against one leg. The damaged strap had been tied shorter. It pulled the top out of shape, making the bag hang at an angle. The silver-clasp student sat on the bench by the wall. His friend stood behind him, smoothing one embroidered cuff with the other hand.
Neither looked pleased to see me. That was an improvement over yesterday's welcome.
The clerk brought out the sealed book. Tarin watched her place it on the desk with the attention I usually reserved for forms deciding whether someone would let me leave a room.
"The lending instructor is bringing the register," she said. "Please wait behind the line."
