My Parents Sold My Corvette While I Was in Tokyo

panel I’d fitted, every Saturday I’d spent on my back on a creeper staring up at the undercarriage. All still there.

James came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. And I was, mostly. The anger was already fading into something duller. Not forgiveness. Just distance. The kind of distance you feel when you realize continue reading …