Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

came up to my shins, dry and powdery, squeaking under my weight.

Arthur did not look up immediately, continuing to scatter the grain in small, rhythmic circles. He moved with the slow deliberate ease of a man who had all the time in the world.

When the bucket was half empty, he set the scoop down and looked across the white expanse at me. He did not continue reading …