Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

Martha,” he said, turning his back to me and taking a step toward the open garage. “Leave the past alone. There is nothing for you in those old files, and there never was.”

He pulled the heavy wooden garage door down with a sharp metal clang that rattled the windowpanes of his house and left me standing alone in the driveway.

The drive back to Olympia continue reading …