Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

through the front window.

Brenda adjusted her silver watch, clicking the metal clasp open and shut with a sharp, repetitive sound.

“They said you have the official paper,” Brenda said, her voice rising to a high, hurried pitch. “The examiner called Greg’s cell phone.”

I set the white envelope on the mahogany side table, right next to the brass lamp.

“The continue reading …