Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

on it once before folding it back into her purse.

“I will call you from the escrow office,” she said.

She did not wait for me to follow her through the glass doors.

By two o’clock, the rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt on State Avenue dark and shiny. Frank’s office was on the second floor above a hardware store, the air thick with the smell of old continue reading …