13 years after Two Dollar Bill sold him to a stranger at a park, he and Two Buck Chuck meet up at a burger place for a couple of beers.

Chuck doesn’t remember much. Bill says Mom’s dead. Chuck says he doesn’t remember much about Betsy, but Bill knows he remembers enough.

Bill doesn’t ask the question cause he thinks he knows the answer. Chuck says he got put in the back of the car, then it was the factory after that.

Bill doesn't work, hasn’t ever had a job as far as any tax collector is concerned. Chuck’s still a mechanic, even if his adult hands no longer fit in all the small nooks and crannies anymore. And now he’s at a place that’ll pay him half a decent wage and he doesn’t sleep on the factory floor anymore.

They leave together, sun going down, and they end up at the park where they parted ways all those year ago.

“I think you owe me a push on the swings, Bill.” Says Chuck.

“Sure,” says Bill.

One push. Two pushes. Bill takes the hammer out of his pocket. Three pushes.

“Come on, you can push harder than that.”

Chuck swings back, and Bill buries the claw of the hammer in the back of Chuck’s skull.

Chuck slumps in the swing. Bill takes his wallet and his hammer and doesn’t look back. The last time he saw his brother, he was sitting in the swing set. Just like he always was.

On the bus out of town, the living brother checks the wallet. A driver’s license and a two dollar bill.

All that is left on earth Belongs to the Great Work.