Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

based on a fraud,” I said.

I stood up and picked up my purse from the floor.

“I need to make some copies,” I said.

The printer shop on Fourth Avenue was a narrow room crowded with three large commercial copiers that hummed with a low, hot vibration. Paul, a young man with black ink smudges on his forearms, was aligning a stack of cardstock continue reading …