Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

the small room. Gene sat at the table, her green unlit pencil resting next to a cup of black tea that had gone cold.

I sat across from her, my left wrist resting on the oilcloth table cover where the light from the yellow ceiling fixture caught the gold of my mother’s watch.

“Mr. Henderson at the jewelry counter on Main Street finished the repair while continue reading …