26
He blinked in the glare of the porch light. It felt weird, knocking on Iris’s door after so many years. Not that he’d knocked on it much as a child. Mostly he’d just burst through, following on Adam’s heels.
When Iris finally answered the door, she seemed confused. She didn’t recognize him, and she may have even been expecting someone else.
“Yes?” she said.
He smiled his most charming smile, waiting for her to open the storm door and pull the main door to, keeping the heat inside (and for his purposes, making her escape less likely). Then he responded, “Hello, Iris.”
“I’m sorry…” Her voice trailed off, but she still wasn’t there yet.
“You mean you don’t recognize your favorite peanut butter thief?” he asked. “Iris, I’m hurt.”
He watched her face (now wrinkled, but not bad for as
