I Was Hired To Pretend To Be His Granddaughter

because of me. Because of the will, probably. Or guilt. Or plain time. Who knows why people return when they do.

She was thirty-one, brittle around the edges, wearing expensive shoes and a face that looked exhausted underneath the makeup.

We met at Mr. Bell’s office because no one trusted anyone enough for anywhere else.

I gave her the drawing.

She stared continue reading …