How a Fourteen-Dollar Yellow Baby Blanket Brought Down a Regional Director
I kicked off my canvas shoes, swung my legs up onto the yellow sheet and leaned back against the cool plaster wall.
Sarah reached over and flipped off the overhead light, leaving only a small night-light plugged into the outlet by the closet door.
I sat on the bare mattress in the cramped sewing room, listening to the steady hum of the refrigerator down the hall while the yellow glow of the night-light threw long, quiet shadows across the stacked bins of fabric.
The radiator in Sarah’s kitchen clanked twice before the morning sun got to the table.
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