Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

these?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“He kept them in his closet in Seattle,” she said. “I saw them when I helped him pack his books.”

“He should have left them,” I said.

“He wanted you to have them,” she said.

“They are just cups, Evelyn,” I said.

She set the cup back on the counter, her hand lingering on the porcelain.

“I paid the first installment on the continue reading …