Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

home to Olympia, Martha. There is nothing for you here.”

I stood on the pier for a long minute, watching the gray water churn against the timber pilings.

Evelyn stood on the wooden steps of my porch, her car keys jingling in her hand. The orange porch light hummed.

“I spoke to the bank,” Evelyn said, her words running together. “They will give us an extension continue reading …