I Gave Coffee To The Old Janitor My Family Humiliated

at all. It was a low brown house with a workshop out back full of soldering irons, and a kitchen with a coffee maker older than me.

He made two cups. Black.

“You want to know why,” he said, sitting down across from me at a table that wobbled. “Why the coveralls. Why the test.”

“I want to know why you let it go on as long as you did,” I said. “You watched continue reading …