Finch tells me: The man sits at the table against the wall, the one that always fills last because it is under the air conditioning vent, and is almost always either too hot or too cold, depending on the season of the year. He is unremarkable to look at–black-rimmed glasses, black jeans, a brown leather […]

Oh, my beautiful Bez, how I dream of you tonight. My sleep has been light, interrupted by dream upon dream of you. In one, we are in a small house in the middle of a field of red poppies, a tiny bent and crooked house, painted white, red brick chimney built at impossible angles. A […]