Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

clearly under the fluorescent light of the motel ceiling.

“She is not going to look right on their big screens,” I said.

Arthur looked down at the drawing, his mouth working silently for a moment before he reached for his coat pocket.

“You cannot do this to Evelyn,” he said. “She is finally clear of the debt.”

“I am going to the Olympic continue reading …