Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

waiting. “Give me the keys.”

“No,” I said, looking her in the eye.

Evelyn let out a sharp breath, her hand dropping back to her side as she turned toward the hallway. “You are going to lose this house for nothing, and I am not going to be here to help you pack when the sheriff arrives.”

The front door slammed behind her, the glass pane rattling in its continue reading …