Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

booth, two turkey sandwiches on thick wheat bread resting on plastic plates between us.

“You look like you have just fought a minor skirmish,” Raymond said, his voice a dry, gravelly baritone that instantly steadied me.

“Nicole is trying to paint my house gray,” I said, taking a small bite of my sandwich. “And Julian still has not given me the new safe continue reading …