Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

two steps toward me, his hand resting near his belt.

I turned around and walked toward the revolving doors, the heavy glass pushing me out into the cold afternoon air.

The sidewalk was slick with the autumn mist, reflecting the yellow headlights of the passing city buses.

Behind me, the heavy glass doors of the agency lobby clicked shut,continue reading …