I laid the check flat and squared it with the edge of the tile.

Martha came in with the bakery box open and held it out to me, and I took a roll because her arm stayed out.

“Your father loved these,” she said.

“He’d eat one standing at that counter with his hat still on.”

Brandon laughed, and for two seconds it was a good sound.

“He’d eat anything that didn’t eat him first.”

Then he pulled a folded page from his back pocket and laid it beside the coffee.