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

to the black ink.

Arthur leaned closer, squinting at the page. His work shirt smelled of sulfur and grease. “Gary did not write in black pen. He only used blue.”

I turned the page back to the spring invoices, then to the winter bills from the previous year. I compared the faded purple printed figures with the hand-written additions on every sheet.