I didn’t bother counting the twenty-dollar bills.

I folded the receipt in half, set the envelope on the passenger seat, and drove straight back to Route 9.

The sky was turning flat and gray as I parked outside Arthur’s office again.

The dry cleaner next door was venting hot steam onto the sidewalk through a large metal grate.

The smell of harsh chemicals mixed with the exhaust of passing delivery trucks.

A woman walking a small dog hurried past the storefront.