Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

mine, his face set toward the light of the vestibule.

“Arthur, please,” Gale called out behind us, her voice thin and high. “We’ve known each other forty years.”

We reached the heavy doors and Arthur pushed them open, letting the cold autumn wind sweep in from the square. The air was clean and sharp, smelling of wet leaves and coal smoke from the old continue reading …