Luke didn’t look at me across the small wooden table.

He kept his eyes on his plate.

I asked him a question about Carl and the truck, and he gave me a three-word answer.

After dinner, Luke went into the living room and turned on the television.

I stayed in the kitchen.

I stood at the sink with a yellow sponge, running hot water over the dinner plates and scrubbing the ceramic hard.

Walt had chosen a wealthy stranger over his own son.