Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

” she said, her voice barely louder than the wind through the pines.

Mike did not move from his spot on the gravel, his eyes following Donald as the younger man followed her through the front door.

The scent of the roses lingered on the porch, sweet and thick in the cold air, leaving Mike alone in the driveway.

***

By eleven, the roses continue reading …