hugged me with one arm, the way you hug someone you feel obligated to acknowledge. “Long time, sis,” he said. “You look tired.”
I didn’t answer. I was looking past him at the Louis Vuitton duffel in the hallway, the golf clubs propped against the wall, the Gucci loafers lined up at the foot of the stairs. Marcus had been unemployed for eight months.continue reading …
