Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

they changed the registry,” she said.

“Frank took care of it,” I said.

Evelyn turned around, her face pale in the flat daylight.

“They did,” she said. “The woman on the phone said your name is on the digital archive now. Under the ninety-two summer series.”

“I know,” I said.

“She knew who you were,” Evelyn said.

I looked down at my hands, my thumb pressing continue reading …