Mia arranged one last meeting with Cole to handle the title transfer for the car. She chose a cheap diner across from the DMV. No coffee, no music, just plastic tablecloths shiny with grease.
Cole arrived in a wrinkled jacket, his cheeks hollowed out. "Two chicken plates," she called to the owner.
When the food came, they sat across from each other. "The paperwork's done. Here's the car title." She slid it across the table.
He didn't look at it. "I did the math," he said, his voice completely hoarse. "These eight years, every cent you saved went into the household. You never bought yourself a single piece of clothing that cost more than twenty dollars."
Mia split apart her plastic utensils and said nothing.
"I used to think I was decent enough to you. Never hit you, never cheated." He
