Dark ones, dull with oil, sliding and piling and spreading flat over the driveway.

“Paid in full,” he said.

“Go ahead and count it.”

“Mr.

Heckert,” Lily said.

“You’re spilling them.”

He climbed back into the truck and drove off, and his tires left two wet black streaks on the apron.

Noah squatted down, picked one up, and held it out to me in his palm.