Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

behind my shoulder rather than looking at the paper. “It is a standard corporate mark, Martha. The agency owned every scrap of draft paper the minute we sat down at our desks.”

“I drew this one at home,” I said, my voice steady. “In our kitchen on Eleventh Street, while you were asleep on the sofa after the Friday deadline.”

“Go home,continue reading …