My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge
I looked so much like my mother.
Gregory could barely look at me when I asked questions.
He wasn’t annoyed by me.
He was afraid of the rusted butter cookie tin.
I pulled the five-thousand-dollar check out of my pocket.
A bribe to keep me quiet.
I still had a fifty-dollar diner bill hanging over me.
I had mailed my rent check yesterday morning, praying it wouldn’t bounce.