“I need twenty-four hours to pull together my personal records,” I said.

Gable folded his hands on top of the manila folder.

“The late fees will keep piling up,” Gable said.

“And the account stays open and active until I see a badge.”

The late afternoon sun was baking the gravel driveway at the family house.

I parked my car by the garage and shut off the engine, listening to the hot metal tick as it cooled.

Glenn was standing near the wooden front porch, washing his pickup with a green garden hose in a faded T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts.