Chapter 11 — My Imagination Against Me

Standing there in the kitchen, listening to the water run, my imagination turned fully against me, and it built, out of the pieces I had, the worst structure it could.

The hidden cash, far more than a dish job should produce.

The torn clothes.

The scrape on his face.

The obvious lie about the creek.

The six months of a bike that never appeared.

The money going somewhere I could not see.