I walked out of the building onto the Third Street sidewalk just as the streetlights were coming on.

I walked past the wire fence of Oak Creek Used Cars on my way back to Miller’s Corner Market.

A young lot attendant was driving my classic blue Ford pickup across the gravel toward the back row of the lot.

I stood by the fence in the cold evening air, holding Howard’s receipt in my hand, and watched the red taillights of my father’s truck fade into the dark.

I folded Howard’s receipt into a tiny square and pushed it deep behind my driver’s license in my leather wallet.