Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

my boots steady on the gravel.

“I have nothing to say to you, Russell,” I said.

He stepped in front of me, his foot tapping rhythmically against the asphalt of the driveway apron. “The planning commission is going to approve the easement at ten. It is already on the consent agenda.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” I said, trying continue reading …