Matt left for work a little after eight, kissing the top of Vic’s bald head on his way out. “Two more days and you’re all mine,” he said, his breath tickling Vic’s shaved skin. Friday was Vic’s last double shift; next week he’d be home in time for dinner. He couldn’t wait to get his evenings back. Rubbing the smudge of his lips from Vic’s skin, Matt told him, “Think up something fun to do this weekend. The less clothing involved, the better.”
Before he could stop himself, Vic thought of the scribbled letter that had been left on his windshield at the start of the week. Like a hawk, Matt swooped down on the image, snatching the piece of paper up off the ground of Vic’s memory. ::What’s this?:: he asked silently, smoothing out the note.
Into his coffee mug, Vic muttered, “Kyle. We ain’t
