April 1996
Nate wakes, suddenly, to the bleat of a container vessel foghorn reminding a pleasure craft, a tall, two-masted schooner, about the rules of navigating Charleston harbor. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes, he slides with a thump off the armchair. He moved it from the parlor downstairs into the bedroom to work his way through box after box – al…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to "Don Nordberg (is/on) writing" to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.