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Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

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“I am not signing anything until I speak with Frank again,” I said.

“Frank is a retired volunteer at a senior center, mother,” she said, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse. “He cannot stop a bank foreclosure, and he certainly cannot pay off nine thousand dollars in overdue property taxes.”

She reached out her hand, her palm open and continue reading …

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