Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

for five seconds, his hand motionless beside his fork.

“You should not have gone there,” he said.

“You sold my original nineteen ninety-two sketches to the corporate archives,” I said.

“We were about to lose everything, Martha,” he said, his hand moving to his blue porcelain coffee cup, though he did not lift it.

“I didn’t lose anything in two thousand continue reading …