Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

hung between us, heavy and cold. He cleared his throat again, the sound gravelly and dry.

“Are you going to file the fraud charges?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I am signing the corporate agreement. You will keep your pension.”

Arthur let out a long, shuddering breath, his shoulders dropping. “Thank you, Martha. Maybe we can find a small place together. continue reading …