Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
The yellow light from the overhead bulb cast long shadows across the concrete floor of the corridor. Principal Bradley was standing outside the custodian office, his wool coat unbuttoned, holding a single brass key.
“Thank you for coming back, Nicole,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I know it has been a long evening, and you must be tired.”
“Clara said you wanted to see me, Mr. Bradley,” I said, my thumb tracing the silver signet ring on my pinky.
He adjusted his spectacles and looked at the brass key in his palm, his expression thoughtful.
“Before your father passed, he asked me to keep an eye on his locker,” he said. “He did not want any of his personal things thrown out with the old cleaning rags.”
“I tried to help him before, but Albert was a proud man,” he continued, leaning slightly against the doorframe of the office. “He pawned his silver watch chain back in November, Nicole.”
I stared at him, my breath catching as I remembered the missing chain from his pocket watch. “The one he always kept in his vest?” I asked.
