I bought it at an office supply store three years ago.”
“Just tell me before you force the lock,” Marcus said.
I jammed the flat tip under the silver latch.
The edge of the screwdriver bit into the plastic casing.
I pushed down hard on the yellow handle.
The lock held for a second before the metal bent with a loud snap, and the latch popped up and hit my knuckles.I flipped the lid back.
The smell of old paper and stale dust rose into the air.
Two thick manila folders sat on top of our birth certificates, our car titles, and three years of joint tax returns.
I took out the first folder.
The cardboard was heavy in my hands.
I opened it against the hallway wall.
The heading on the first page was printed in bold black letters.
It read Voluntary Transfer of Physical and Legal Custody.I stared at the words.
