Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

The cardboard box from the basement smelled of damp cedar, but the heavy manila envelope inside was completely dry.

Evelyn dropped a stack of yellow dishcloths into a plastic crate and checked her wristwatch. “We need to clear these cabinets by noon, Mother. The real estate agent is coming by to take the photos.”

“This shouldn’t be in here,” I said, continue reading …