The jury summons had been stuck on the fridge door for three weeks, a little yellow threat I couldn't ignore.
Today was the first payday of my new job as custodian at the middle school. My hands still smelled like bleach and floor wax.
I got home and realized I'd left my keys inside. Mom must have locked the deadbolt from force of habit.
I knelt down on the cracked front step and lifted the clay flowerpot with the dead geranium. The spare key was there, exactly where I'd hid it last year.
For a moment I just sat there, key in my hand. That little piece of metal felt like a secret promise kept.
Inside, Mom was watching game shows, not even noticing I'd been gone. I put the jury summons in my pocket for tomorrow.
On the kitchen counter was my pay stub. First real money in months. I folded it and tucked it into the same pocket with the summons.
That night I made us both grilled cheese. Mom said it was the best she'd had in years. Maybe it was.