Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

sliding out of the booth. “Mabel, meet me at the shed at three thirty. I have the new labels to show you.”

He left three twenty-dollar bills on the table and walked out without waiting for his coffee.

The concrete floor of the bottling shed was slick with water from the midday washdown, smelling of steam and pine oil.

Arthur was waiting by the stainless continue reading …