Alex, 2010
Gabe came home after work smelling like small children and frustration. He dropped his bag and guitar case by the door of the apartment and dropped onto the couch face-first like a sack of potatoes. His muffled voice in the cushion hardly hid his annoyance. “When can we move?”
After their father took their wings, Alex expected their father to cut them off financially, but he didn’t. They still had access to it, but Alex refused to take anything from Michael until he gave up this act that he wasn’t hiding anything.
So, they needed jobs if they hoped to survive.
Well, they wouldn’t die, but they needed to eat.
“The kids get to you today?”
Gabe lifted his head from the old checkered couch cushion. It was a faded blue and white, and had a tear in it. They cou
