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Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

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to part with that pine table, we will call it even for the legal work.”

I ran my hand along the edge of the desk, my fingers finding the small brass hinge where the top adjusted for height. “The parallel rule is still true.”

“I will take good care of it, Martha,” he said.

“Then write the letter,” I said.

The local diner on Highway 101 was nearly empty continue reading …

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