Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

Arthur, those folders contain thirty years of my personal notes on the soil mixes,” I said, holding them against my chest for a second before I laid them on the desk.

“They are also the property of the co-op under the joint-lease agreement,” Robert said from the doorway.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his heavy gold ring hidden from view, but continue reading …