“I remember buying you a box on Christmas Eve.” I ate my cereal standing up, leaning back against the counter across from her in my running shorts, still sans a shirt. “Yeah, you did.” “Then you tried to pay for all my groceries and still snuck money in my pocket, even though you lost the bet. You’re a good man.” A good man. The title gnawed at me with rotting teeth. Pretty sure good men didn’t fuck around with their daughter’s friends and lie about it. I was definitely a piece of shit.
