Broken Man Broke: An Excerpt

“I want you to call home at least once a week,” Margaret Davenport said, searching through her shopping bag-size purse for a tissue as she choked back her tears.
“I promise,” Scott Davenport said.
“And remember to eat.” Margaret dabbed the tissue at her moist eyes. “It’s cafeteria food, and it may not be as good as home cooking, but it’s food. And it’s paid for. You have to keep up your strength.”
“Yes, Mom.” Scott sidled his eyes to his father, who avoided eye contact with him. “I’ll be fine.”
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