hand.
What came out was not money.
It was a bundle tied with a narrow cream-colored ribbon, the kind my mother used to save from gifts because she hated throwing away anything that might be useful later.
The bundle was thick enough to contain several folded papers.
A faded photograph rested on top, its corners softened with age, and beneath the ribbon I could see the edge of a sealed white envelope.
Something brittle and yellow-brown lay pressed against the papers.
A flower.
Or what remained of one.
Martin gripped