Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

reached into his pocket and pulled out his silver pen.

He signed his name on the three signature lines, his handwriting small and cramped.

“Where will you go?” Evelyn asked, her slow drawl breaking the silence.

“Chicago,” Gregory said. “There is a logistics firm near the loop.”

He picked up the cardboard box, his shoulders hunched under continue reading …