Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

to ruin what little standing we have left in this town.”

By three in the afternoon, the fog had rolled in from the inlet, turning my study gray. I was sitting at the oak desk when Evelyn let herself in through the back door, her boots clicking rapidly on the floorboards.

“We have to finish packing these reference books today, Mother,continue reading …