Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

the silver sheen of a four-H pencil, Arthur,” I said, blotting the liquid with a napkin. “And look at the handwriting on the wrapper. Do you recognize it?”

Arthur cleared his throat again and looked toward the cash register. “I have no idea who sent it. You are letting your imagination run away because of the bank notice.”

He set his cup down, the ceramic continue reading …