bill from my pocket. “Hey man,” I said. “Looks rough. Here, grab some lunch.”
Silas stiffened. He stood up straight—spine like a steel rod—and looked me dead in the eye. “I’m not a beggar, son,” he said, his voice like gravel. “I have a pension coming. I’m just… waiting on the paperwork.”
He wasn’t waiting on paperwork. He was starving. But I knew that continue reading …
