The folder sat on Ray's desk between them like something that had arrived at its destination and was waiting to be acknowledged.
Aurora had placed it there with the unhurried confidence of someone delivering something she was satisfied with—set it down, not pushed it across, the specific gesture of someone who understood the difference between offering and presenting. Then she had settled back in her chair and waited.
Ray looked at the folder. Then at her. Then he picked it up.
She watched him open it.
