Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

balancing on the gravel. He looked back at the porch, his faded green shirt loose around his shoulders.

He did not pull at the collar anymore. The faint purple marks on his skin had faded into nothing, leaving only the ordinary freckles of a six-year-old child.

The boy pushed his bicycle toward the porch, the kickstand dragging slightly in the dry grass continue reading …