Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

back of the swivel chair. She was sorting through the morning’s appointment book with quick, small movements, her fingers moving across the pages without a sound.

“Clara?” the young man asked when I opened the door.

“Yes, dear,” I said, reaching for my glasses.

“Sign here,” he said, pointing a blunt finger at the screen.

I took the plastic stylus and drew continue reading …