Glenn walked into the kitchen in athletic shorts and a T-shirt.

“Mail showed up late today,” he said.

He reached out and tried to tug the white envelope right out of my hand.

I yanked my arm back and stepped away from the island.

“This one has my name on it,” I said.

“It’s just junk mail,” Glenn said.

“Credit card offers and garbage.

I toss all that stuff for you so you don’t have to bother with it.”