Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

bulb, his faded green shirt hanging off his thin shoulders.

“Your mom is resting in the other room,” Mike said, pulling up a chair. “You like the water here?”

Tyler took a slow sip, his eyes tracking Mike’s silver ring. “Donald says we only get one glass after dinner.”

“Is that a rule?” Mike asked.

“Everything is a rule,” Tyler whispered,continue reading …