The living room felt smaller in the late summer heat, even with the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles overhead. Crickets chirped outside the screen door like they were keeping time. The house was quiet otherwise—no TV, no music, just the low hum of the fan blades cutting through thick air. She stood in the middle of the rug, nineteen and fresh from college for the weekend, still wearing the same tiny cutoff denim shorts and thin white tank she’d thrown on that morning. No bra. The AC had kicked on earlier; her n*****s poked sharp against the cotton, dark points visible if you looked close. Uncle Mark was looking.
He sat in the big leather recliner like a king on his throne—late thirties, tall even when seated, thick arms corded from years of hauling lumber and swinging hammers. Faint scen
