by Jim Mcinvale

Walter Finds His Way Walter peered over bifocals and rubbed a hand over his thinly bristled scalp. The shoulders of his charcoal gray suit sported prominent hanger marks and a layer of dust that made them look faded. A familiar but indistinct pressure brushed the nape of his neck, so he glanced back. Lorraine stood at the closet door with a stack of folded tee shirts, inspecting him with a mi... read more

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