My Brother Said One Sentence in the Bank Lobby

they were coupons.

My father leaned close enough that I could smell his mint gum.

“You press this,” he said, “and you don’t have a family.”

I looked past him.

At my mother, who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

At Derek, who was texting with both thumbs, probably telling his fiancée some version where I was the villain.

At the dead man’s stamp on the paper.

“I don’t continue reading …