The man who walked into the garage on a Tuesday afternoon was a ghost from a past Adam had tried to bury.
David looked nothing like the man who had visited him months ago. The cancer had eaten him alive. His skin was yellow-gray, stretched tight over bones. His eyes were sunken, ringed with purple. He leaned on a cane that trembled under his weight.
“Adam.”
“David. I thought you were dead.”
“Almost. Not yet.” He lowered himself onto a stool by the tool bench. “I need to talk to you. Before it's too late.”
---
Adam closed the garage door.
Sandra was in the office. Marcus was at school. Jenna was at the community college. They were alone.
“You look like hell,” Adam said.
“Feel like hell. The doctors gave me a month. That was two months ago. I'm stubborn.”
“What do you want?”
“To m
