Ruth knocks twice; I have already set the table with two cups of coffee, dripped from Brooklyn Roasting Company beans that I had brought from New York. She drinks her coffee holding the cup with both hands. She tells her stories about New York. Next, she takes out an envelope from her purse and sets the money on the table one bill at a time, counting out loud. It’s my monthly stipend. It sits on the table in a fan shape. Now, we chat. She leaves. I take the money put half of it back into the envelope and divide up the rest: groceries, materials, and transportation.