GABRIEL
The whole place was somber the next morning when I went down to breakfast, so I adjusted my mood accordingly. There was no sound other than the din of cutlery against dishes or the occasional clink of ice settling in a glass. Alonzo gazed off into space as he nibbled on a triangle of toast, and both his children looked like Children of the Corn rejects with dark circles under their eyes and a look of being lost in their gazes.
Still, as bad as I felt for them, maybe, I had a job to do. Once breakfast was coming to a close, I retrieved the envelope Pop had given me the day before from beneath my shirt and slid it over to Sal, who was sitting back sipping his coffee. “What’s this niputi?” He kept his voice low, so I leaned in to whisper close to his ear.
“It’s the meeting you wanted.”
“No!” He fumbled the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of paper inside.
