A Twenty-Dollar Bill Dropped Into the Dust Beside a Tennessee Highway

“You look awful,” she said.

She dropped the bag in the back beside a pile of folded towels.

Her voice had that rising, too-sweet lilt at the end.

“Didn’t sleep much,” I said.

“You’re working too hard on this merger.” She shut the trunk and dusted off her hands.

“The lawyers are handling the transition.

Let them do their jobs.

You’re paying them enough.”