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

“I’m going to lie down before dinner,” I said.

I got up and walked into the house with a slow, deliberate, heavy step, through the kitchen and down the hall to the little bathroom off the utility room.

I locked the door, sat on the edge of the tub, and took the folded bank transfer printout out of my coat.

I folded the bank transfer printout into a tiny square, untied my left work boot, pushed the paper down under the thick leather insole, and pulled the laces tight.

At six o’clock I walked into the mansion kitchen with the folded paper sitting stiff under my left heel inside my boot.