Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

a girl.

The gray sky over the Hood Canal was flat, offering no shadow and no light.

Martha stared at her daughter’s silent, downcast face against the gray sky.

The next morning, the lobby of the Bank of Olympia smelled of wet wool and floor wax. Greg, the loan officer who had approved our first roof repair in nineteen ninety-eight, sat behind a low oak continue reading …