A Tin of Old Photographs Revealed Why a Best Friend Kept Helping

was quiet, the usual hum of the copy machines sounding distant and flat.

I walked into Harold’s office without knocking, closing the heavy oak door behind me.

Harold was sitting by his window, staring down at the street where the local transit buses stopped.

“Why did you let him do that?” I asked, stopping three feet from his desk.

“You knew about the continue reading …