Trust is how it gets worn away between people over seven years—not by a single betrayal that shatters it, but by countless little grind-downs of “Let’s see,” “It’s almost there,” “It’ll be fine soon.” The Fourth and his wife are best at consuming goodwill. When you question them, they say you lack vision; when you press for answers, they say you’re manufacturing anxiety; when you walk away, they say you’re not persistent. Seven years is enough to turn idealists into cold, indifferent onlookers, and enough for a group of people who believe in the future to learn to trust only contracts and proof of funds. Once trust has been overdrawn, all that’s left is transactions—