The jury summons has been on the fridge for three weeks. I keep meaning to call in, but the night shift makes it hard to reach anyone during business hours.
Tuesday morning, I stopped at the donut shop on my way home from work. The sun was coming up over the base gates, and I was still wearing my uniform.
I ordered a coffee and a glazed donut. The total was $2.14. I paid with a five and got $2.86 back. I stuffed the receipt in my pocket instead of throwing it away.
That night, when I emptied my pockets at my desk in the hotel lobby, I smoothed out the receipt and tucked it into my wallet. I don't know why. It was just a Tuesday.
My daughter's wedding is in six days. The dress is hung on the back of the closet door. The caterer called yesterday to confirm the chicken or the fish.
I look at that receipt and think about all the ordinary days that led here. The night shifts. The college classes I took between them. The years of saving quarters in a coffee can.
That Tuesday wasn't special. That's exactly why I kept it. One more quiet morning before everything changes.
The jury summons is still on the fridge. I'll deal with it after the wedding. For now, I've got a receipt to hold onto.