Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

his coat.

“The car is already packed,” he said.

At one o’clock, the autumn sun hit the concrete of the loading dock, casting long, sharp shadows across the bay.

I stood near the bay door, the cold air coming off the hills smelling of damp leaves and distant woodsmoke.

Gregory set his last box of personal items into the trunk of his sedan.

He closed the continue reading …