I clocked myself in to the dispatch computer. The restaurant was hopping. Customer service gals milled about. The Warrior churned out pizzas. Micho was being all manager-ish. I turned from the computer toward my lockbox. I had a significant amount of money and receipts to drop in from my pocketI slid the receipts in first. The simple thermal paper folds like a razor. No problem. Next, a couple bills. They went in fine. The final wad of cash crumpled as I tried to insert it. It was mushy. Damp. Like a half-dried paper towel after you’ve wiped off the counter. “Why is this so wet?” I asked myself. I remembered immediately. It was gross. Cue the memory swirl! It was earlier that evening. I got out of my dented car with a warm bag of pizzas. I was on time. The house was unmarked. It had a chain-link fence, long grass and a broken screen door through which I could see the entryway. A woman appeared at the screen door just as I lifted the latch to their gate. Her eyes went wide as she ...
The stories of a man working hard to achieve financial peace.