Hopsworth's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

The shredder bin still sat full when the knock came. Hopsworth opened the door and found the clerk on the bench again, but she was not alone this time. A man stood behind her with his hands in his coat pockets. She did not carry invoices now. She carried a short list of new numbers, and her face had no apology in it. The envelope had not been the end. It had been the opening offer. She stepped aside and pointed to the curb. A folding table stood there now, stacked with legal copies and a small metal cashbox chained to one leg. The setup was tidy and public. Anyone walking past could see it. She had brought her office to his doorstep. The man lifted a tablet from under his arm and turned the screen toward Hopsworth. Charts. Dates. Three addresses linked in clean rows. He said the originals were already filed with a friend on the courthouse steps, ready to walk inside by morning if the new number was not met. The clerk watched Hopsworth's face. She did not blink. Hopsworth paid. He counted the bills onto the table and watched her lock them in the box. She gave him nothing in return, no paper, no promise, only a small nod. The man closed the tablet. They walked to the car and drove off. Hopsworth stood alone at the curb. He had bought another day. He had not bought the last one.