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The room was stuffy and packed with chairs. The west wall had huge windows that were sadly sealed shut. Men and women were scattered in the seats. Jeff and I found two chairs in the middle of the cluster and sat, waiting for our turn to be called. A morose game of musical chairs was played each time a name was read. The named person would move to the front of the room and take a seat in front of an ill-tempered man behind a pretentious wooden desk.

Do you swear all of the information you have provided regarding your assets and debts is true to the best of your knowledge? Do you understand your rights under Colorado law? What is your plan with your current automobile? I see you have a recent tax return. You will be required to pay a sum of twenty-five hundred dollars to the court. You will have to sell your truck, Mr. Jones.

“Allen/Jarvis…”

Jeff and I took our turns at the desk. With our attorney present to assist, we raised our right hands and swore to our identities. The four-eyed trustee opened our case file and began…

“…Do you understand your rights under Colorado Law?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jeff and I said in unison.

I awaited the same script I heard the trustee recite with every person before us, but it did not come. The man peered through steel rimmed frames at our file, flipping through each page as a frown grew on his forehead.

“Sooo…” he said after a deep breath, “You were in the real estate business?”

Jeff and I looked at each other as we confirmed the trustee’s assumption. The heat of the room caused sweat to bead and run down my back. The tick of the clock on the wall echoed in my head and the sound of pages turning caused me to flinch several times. I eagerly anticipated the sunshine and cigarette that waited for me outside.

The trustee began a conversation, which I let Jeff handle. I made few comments and answered only questions directed toward me. I let my mind wander back to the day it all began. It all started with a steak dinner.