Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

on his desk, the sound hollow against the wood.

By ten o’clock, the office smelled of five-dollar diner coffee that Evelyn had brought in a paper tray from the highway cafe.

Gregory had filled half of the cardboard box with old plaques, three binders of corporate bylaws, and a framed photograph of a sailboat he had kept on his windowsill.

I sat behind continue reading …