Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table
He scanned the items slowly.
The register beeped with each pass.
He put the rolls of tape into a plastic bag one at a time, as if he had nowhere else to be.
“Moving out?” he asked.
“Just packing some things away,” I said.
The total came to twenty-four dollars and twelve cents.
I handed him two twenty-dollar bills.
My cell phone vibrated in my heavy jacket pocket.