Mucho Mojo
“As we moved, dust puffed and floated in the sunlight that bled through thickly curtained windows and the place smelled sour and the smell came from a variety of things. One of them I felt certain was Uncle Chester himself. You die in a house and lay there for two days in the heat, you get a little ripe, and so do your surroundings. I left the front door open. Not that it helped much. There wasn’t any wind stirring. “Damn,” Leonard said. “It’s like he didn’t live here.” Considering the aroma he’d left behind, I felt that was debatable, but I said, “He was old, Leonard. Maybe he didn’t move around much.” “He wasn’t that old.” “You hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. He could have been in a bad way.” “Maybe him giving me this place was some kind of final jab in the heart. I loved this house when I was a kid. He knew that. Shit, look at it now.” “Final days he maybe got his shit together. Decided to let bygones be bygones. Ms. Grange said he left you some money too.”
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
10 / 10
8 / 10
User Reviews: