The spreadsheet was older than his second marriage. Thirty-one years of one card, in that condition, with the corner sharp, tracked across four states and two shows in Columbus he had driven to alone. It surfaced at 11:20 on a Thursday in a Facebook group, posted by a woman emptying her late father's garage. He paid the asking price without countering. He had never in his life not countered.

It came Tuesday in a bubble mailer with the postage overpaid. He sat with it at the kitchen table for most of an hour. Then he opened the spreadsheet, found nothing left to enter in the final column, closed it, and opened it again. His son texted did you get it. It took him nine minutes to answer got it.