The machine at the supermarket paid ten cents a can and jammed on anything dented, so he learned to smooth each one flat against his thigh first, patiently, the way a man irons a shirt for an interview. Two contractor bags. Fourteen dollars and thirty cents. The weekend those cans came from had cost nine hundred, and the rent was due Tuesday.

A woman behind him with a full cart and a toddler waited eleven minutes and did not sigh once. When the last bottle went in he thanked her, and she said take your time, honey, and meant it. He carried the slip to the register and bought eggs, bread, coffee. It was the first thing he had bought in three weeks with money he had not borrowed.