Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

Arthur was standing by his lathe, his thumb rubbing against his palm as he watched a block of maple spin.

He switched off the motor, and the high whine died down to a quiet hum.

I laid the folded sheets of the draft on his dusty workbench, right over a pile of fresh pine curls.

“Russell drafted this to take your north wood lot,” I said.continue reading …