They Kicked Our Survival Box, So We Built a Wall They Couldn’t Tear Down

balance sheet.

Mia walked up to the glass doors. She put her hand against them. Then she turned to us. “I’m not leaving,” she said.

“Mia, don’t,” I warned. “The cops come, it’s over. You have a record, you lose the delivery gig. You lose everything.”

“I have nothing left to lose, Arthur!” she screamed. (It was the first time she used my name. I didn’t continue reading …