Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

as I walked out to the gravel parking area beside the garage. Evelyn’s sedan was parked near the hedge, her engine idling with a low, wet rumble from the exhaust. She opened her door before I had even reached the bottom step, her boots clicking rapidly on the gravel.

“Did you get it?” Evelyn asked, her words tumbling out. “Arthur texted me from the continue reading …