The perfume lasted four days in the car. I know that because every morning I opened the passenger door before my own, to check, the way you check that a sick person is still breathing. Fig, pepper, and behind it something dry: wood that has been wetted and left to dry.
The car is a black Passat my father had registered in Suzhou, 苏E, because a Shanghai plate now costs more than the car. Because of the plate we aren't allowed on the elevated ring road at rush hour; we go underneath, it takes forty minutes longer, you end up knowing every traffic light on the way. Lukas takes it on Tuesdays and Thursdays for his private lessons in Pudong. I take it twice a month to see my parents. There are two keys, and I know where both of them are.
On the Saturday, I opened a spreadsheet. I want to be exact about this, because this is the point: I didn't open it to catch him. I opened it to clear him. I have a master's in finance; they teach us that figures don't lie, which is false, but they also teach us to arrange them, which is true. Seven columns. Date, time, amount, place, what he said, what is possible, what is left.