Rob looked at me, then at the open bedroom door behind my left shoulder.

He tried to edge around the corner of the dresser toward his jacket, but I stayed planted in the door frame.

“We can settle this like sensible men, Daniel,” Rob said.

“You sat at my kitchen table Sunday,” I said.

“You drank my coffee.”

Rob pressed both palms flat against the wooden dresser behind him.

Rob leapt backward as the blood drained out of his face.

Rob backed out through the bedroom doorway until his spine met the plaster wall of the hall.