MICHAEL
George Jones played so loudly that I could hear it through the garage door and into the kitchen in the packhouse. I could hear the melancholy melody as George told the story of a man who loved his wife until they put him in the ground. I knew I should have ignored it, but then I heard the sound of shattering glass. My mom and Tyler were supposed to be gone, but I worried Tyler might have come without me knowing and was into something. He could be hurt, or he could have broken something important; I didn’t know which was worse. My hand touched the doorknob, and I started to turn it even though there was a voice in my head telling me this was familiar and to turn back. I ignored the alarms and opened it. Instead of Tyler, I found Lawrence. He was sitting on a lawn chair in the middl
