Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

Arthur,” I said, pointing toward the yellow folder on the kitchen table. “The one with the asymmetrical eyes.”

“It does not matter what you have,” Arthur said, stepping closer to the counter and looking down at his boots. “We built a life on those silence agreements, Martha, and you cannot undo it now.”

“You signed my name on that contract, Arthur,” continue reading …