Strangely enough, I hadn’t minded the dishwashing job. It was solitary work, and I’d become a solitary person since I’d been locked up. I’d grown used to—almost comforted by—a rigid schedule and precise way of doing things. Loading that machine, pressing the button, listening to the whir of the brushes and the gush of the water, and then unloading, separating, stacking…and then doing it all over again, was mindless work, but it fed my new affinity for order. There was a word for what had happened to me during those six long years where I woke at the exact same time every morning and was directed through my day by others: institutionalized. I was well aware, and so I recognized that the loss of the job wasn’t simply about a paycheck—paltry though it was—but about having the meager sense of order I’d regained being taken away.

A magazine was off to the side, and my eyes lingered on the cover headline, “Sun’s Fury.” The subhead read: “Scientists Warn Solar Flare Could Hit Earth in Our Lifetime.”

I read it once, then twice, finally sighing, and pushing it aside.

If only.

With one massive explosion, I’d be on common ground with every other man and woman out there.

Which was to say, we’d all be fucked.

Fortunately or unfortunately—I couldn’t quite decide—that wasn’t going to happen.

Alfonso stood and dropped his plate in the sink with a clatter. “Oh, by the way,” he said, plucking a piece of mail off the top of the pile on the counter. “This came for you.”

I took it, and he gave me a pat on the shoulder as he moved past, pausing. I waited for the words of encouragement he might give me before he left. “Wash those up, would you?”

I eyed the sink full of dirty dishes. “Thanks for the words of wisdom,” I muttered sarcastically.

His soft chuckle drifted behind him. “You’ll see the wisdom in not letting small messes accumulate. Take it from someone who’s been where you are.”

Sure. Okay.

The front door opened, and then closed, and a minute later I heard the growl of his car’s engine as it pulled away from the curb, off to his job as head custodian at a local high school. Maybe he had a little more of his father’s determination than my mom had believed, because he’d started out as a janitor there right before I’d gone to prison and was now running the custodial team. Unfortunately for me, they were currently on a hiring freeze. In any case, maybe my uncle would never live in Bel Air, but his outlook was a whole lot better than mine.