(Didn’t you move here from one of those square states?) Mr. Webber started pointing to his head long before he reached the Goody-Goody booth. Sam pretended not to see him. Standing behind the counter, he kept his eyes down on the round waffle iron and the spatula in his hand. “Sam, how many times...
A note slipped under his door read: “Out of your hair today. Need to take care of some business.—Mike.” He poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate it in front of the television. Then he dragged the building’s trash cans from the curb to their spot in the backyard (yet another duty that shaved a l...