Since Michelle couldn’t hear what he was saying now, it was like telling Junior a secret. Remembering the note Papa’d left in the glove compartment, he told his son how very proud he was of him. How beautiful he was now, and how strong and smart he would grow up to be. How sorry he was that he couldn’t be there with him right now. It was just that, sometimes, things happened. Papas made mistakes, too. Even though Junior might not understand this till much later on, papas were just people, scared and confused as everyone else, but trying their hardest. He told Junior that he loved him, he loved him so very much, and before Junior knew it, his pa would be right there with him, forever and then some. He promised.

$2.41

There is free coffee at the contractors’ entrance of Home Depot. At the far end of the parking lot, a dozen day laborers sit on lunch pails, picking at caulk stains and craning their necks after passing trucks. A few stand when Henry rolls by, and those who recognize him turn away.

The store is empty. Too early for the stay-at-home-mom gardeners or the after-work DIY-er crowd. Henry squirts weak coffee into a styrofoam cup. Recently he’s been taking it with sugar for the extra kick and calories, and so now bites the corners off three packets. Pours. Stirs. A muddy vortex. He should not have yelled at the boy. Should never have opened his mouth in the first place. The first sip scalds his tongue. When he blows, the burnt scales rustle like the last of autumn’s leaves, and he needs to focus. He will make it up to Junior tonight, but no point in beating himself up now when there’s nothing he can do, not when there’s so much else on the line.