At the kitchen table, where I often write if I’m not on the back porch, I was working when Tink walked in with the mail.
Normally, he only opens “green” envelopes; these are envelopes that hold residuals from television shows he has written. Sometimes, the checks are for as much as $2.34.
On this particular day, he handed me the mail and said, “Hurry to the bank with that one for 78 cents.”
I flipped…