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

” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The young man who came in had a photocopy of your deed already.”

I paid the clerk five dollars for a copy of the registry log and walked out to the curb. My mind was spinning with the name of the development company, a name I had never heard in seventy-two years in Canton.

I hailed a local continue reading …