Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

The drawer rolled out with a dull squeak that made my shoulder joints ache.

Inside, behind three folders of old tax receipts, was a thick manila envelope marked with the name Apex Plastics.

Evelyn leaned closer, her fingers touching the edge of the paper as I pulled it out. “That is the contract from June,” she whispered.

The contract was thirty pages continue reading …