Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

in a neat row before him, each one stamped with his corporate logo.

Gregory sat to my left, his fingers tapping against the wood. He adjusted his watch strap twice before Arthur even opened his mouth.

Between us sat three paper cups of five-dollar diner coffee, steam rising into the cold air of the room.

“We have reviewed the shipping logs from the last continue reading …