A letter was waiting for me on the counter when I came in. The envelope was heavy cream stock, the kind that makes you slow down before you open it. My name was written in a deep blue ink, the handwriting careful and even. Claudia was at the back steaming a blouse when she heard me pick it up.

“That came by courier an hour ago,” she said, walking over. “The address is from the capital.”

I turned the envelope over. The return logo was small and embossed. It took me a moment to place ...