Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

lately.”

I looked at his hands, then at the tea cooling in my cup. “I know who sent the package, Gerald.”

He did not look up from his ring, his fingers moving in a steady, rhythmic circle. “We are here to talk about the future, not the past.”

“Helen always had clean handwriting,” I said. “She marked the shipping logs with the same blue continue reading …