The Photograph of a Newborn in a Yellow Knitted Hat
“I’m not forcing him with the court,” I said.
“I’m forcing him with what he took.”
Arthur looked at me over his black frames, his jaw setting hard.
“Friday at ten,” he said.
“Ten.”
I left Sarah in Arthur’s waiting room and drove the Buick across town to Maple Street.
The transmission gave its heavy clunk between second and third, shaking the steering wheel before it caught.
Dr.