Thirty Veterans in Leather Vests Arrived at My Front Door on Tuesday Morning

followed Marcus down the narrow wooden stairs, my hand sliding along the cold railing where the paint had begun to peel.

The air outside was sharp with the scent of damp Utica asphalt and dry leaves.

George stood near the edge of the gravel lot, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of a stiff manila envelope.

“I have an order,” George continue reading …