“Don’t sit out here in the damp too long,” Carl said.

“Morning comes fast.”

“Five minutes,” I said.

The screen door clicked shut behind him.

The farmyard was silent now, except for the dry rustle of corn leaves in the night breeze.

I unbuckled the silver wristwatch from my arm and held it flat in my palm under the yellow bug light.

The second hand ticked forward in a tiny, steady rhythm, jumping from mark to mark without stopping.

For eleven months I had trimmed forty-two-dollar grocery receipts down to thirty-five dollars, watching Ben walk around in taped shoes while eighteen thousand seven hundred thirty-one dollars went to lake suites and steak dinners.