Remained

Sometimes in Gregs day he'd spend a lot of his time waiting. He had to go to the bank. He'd go right after Stacey left the busiest time, standing in the line he'd nod at business men, finally at the end, not even to take out any money just to check the balance. Even though he knew it would always be the same. When his mom died she left him some money, not much, not a little enough that he was happy when he found out, not long enough for him to be sad, but long enough for him to keep reminding himself. It made him happy going there, Stacey didn't know. It was his secret, he liked to think he was in on it with the business guys. They would nod at him, he'd nod back, and be satisfied. If he told Stacey about this he thought she'd be mad, or maybe she'd be happy she wouldn't have to work so hard. Maybe also she would understand why he didn't work why he just laid around. He could and he'd be fine. Or relatively, it wasn't enough to by a house, but he'd be fine. He never took any out, never put anything in, what ever was remained.