“I talked to a lawyer from the shelter.”
He looked at her, half-grinning.
“She said the house is legally mine until you pay your share.”
“That’s a bunch of bullshit,” he told her.
He was right. She hadn’t talked to any lawyer. But she was surprised how angry her own lie made her feel. She believed those words. They might not have been the truth but they should have been.
p. 49, American Rust, by Philipp Meyer
Philipp Meyer grew up in Baltimore, dropped out of high school, and got his GED when he was sixteen. After spending several years volunteering at a trauma center in downtown Baltimore, he attended Cornell University, where he studied English. His writing has been published by McSweeney’s, The Iowa Review, Salon.com, and New Stories from the South.