Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

dropped them into his front pocket with a sharp metal clink.

“The guards will escort you to your vehicle,” he said.

“I can walk to my own car, Gregory,” I said.

I turned and walked down the narrow hallway, the sound of my sensible shoes flat against the floor. The first guard followed me three paces behind, his boots heavy on the wood.

The air outside continue reading …