Summer People | Fiction

Silas Jones

“In the winter,” said the cop, “it’s the same crew committing a bunch of different crimes. Left.” He picked up my left hand like a CD he didn’t want to scratch, from the edges. “In the summer, it’s different perps doing the same few over and over.” “That must be exciting,” I said, watching as he smashed my fingertips one by one onto the blue inkpad. His badge said Officer...

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