Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

house near the marina, filled with cardboard banker boxes and the damp smell of cedar. He poured hot tea into a red ceramic mug costing eight dollars, the price tag still sticky on the bottom. On his desk, a single lamp cast a yellow circle over a neat stack of legal pads.

“I can draft the demand letter to Gerald’s agency tonight,” Frank said, clearing continue reading …