Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

his healing collarbone.

He looked up when Mike walked in, his eyes tracking the small blue bicycle Mike was carrying.

“I put some air in the tires,” Mike said, setting the bike against the woodpile near the door.

Tyler did not say anything, but he stood up and walked over to the bike, his fingers touching the rubber grip of the handlebar.

“Thank you, Mike,continue reading …