Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

striking nine when I walked into the den carrying a hot mug of cinnamon tea. The scent of the spices hung heavy in the small, wood-paneled room. Arthur was already seated at the walnut roll-top desk, his shoulders hunched forward as he pulled open the heavy bottom file drawer. He had three manila folders spread across his knees, the paper corners soft continue reading …