“So, you gonna kill me now?”

“Man, I really don’t want to. But you’ve seen my face.”

“The longer we talk, the more I see your face.”

“Yeah, you’d definitely pick me out of a lineup now.”

“I’m near-sighted. So if the line is far away, then maybe not.”

“You probably have glasses though.”

“Old glasses. I need a new prescription.”

It was a real pickle. Donovan White had not planned on robbing Jesus Santos’s home while Jesus was still awake, and Jesus Santos had not planned on being awake while Donovan White robbed him. But there they were in the kitchen together. The cookie in Jesus’s hand had gone soggy from being dunked in milk and not getting eaten in a timely manner afterward. It was in mid-dunk that Jesus had first noticed Donovan.

Donovan had been in the adjacent room, sizing up Jesus’s living room furniture with visible disappointment. It looked like oak up close, which for a near-sighted person like Jesus was good enough, but Donovan could tell it was fake. Imitation oak did not pawn as well as actual oak. Donovan had pawned enough imitation oak to know that. One of these days, he was going to rob someone who could afford actual oak.

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