Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

bottling shed by three o’clock, making the smell of old beeswax thick and heavy. David was sitting at Arthur’s metal desk, carefully sorting through the folders of old honey receipts while I watched the driveway.

“He keeps his actual business logs locked,” David said, sliding a wooden drawer open until it hit the stopper. “But he left the shipping receipts continue reading …