Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

his thumb rubbing the handle of his heavy white mug. “The meeting starts at ten.”

“I only need fifteen minutes,” I said.

“I will sign the register at nine-forty-five,” Harold said, looking up at me. “But you had better be outside that door when the clerk calls the session to order.”

“I will be there,” I said.

By six o’clock, the wind continue reading …