Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

He stopped two feet away, holding the box out to me.

“For your reading glasses,” he said. “The latch is brass.”

I took the box from his hand, the wood smooth as silk, the scent of fresh pine shavings still clinging to the grain.

“Thank you, Arthur,” I said.

“They will be safer in there than on the kitchen table,” he said.

The snow was beginning to settle continue reading …