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I knew what the paper said before I read it. They pin the evictions to the house, but the agriculture notices go on the barn.
The kid saw it first. I’ve been paying him to mind the irrigation lines in the orchard now that my legs are talking back. He burst through the door like a bullet train.
“There’s paper,” he said, “real paper on the barn door.”
I’d been expecting it for years — decades — but when it finally happened it somehow didn’t make sense. I was at the kitchen table, and I just stared down into my empty mug at the little salmon painted on the bottom.
“How much paper?” I asked. The kid didn’t know how to answer. I tapped the cup on the table and a spray of black cof... Read more
