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Robert James Russell

    “Well, alright,” Ken said sitting at the cramped kitchen table, flipping through stacks of mail, old newspapers.      “What were you doing upstairs?”      “Huh?”      “Upstairs.”      “Oh,” Ken touched the back of his neck, then: “Nothing, just poking around my room.”      “Thought you had it pretty much gutted?”      “Thought maybe there’d be something for the kids. Something I’d forgotten about.”      “Find anything?” Eldon said drinking, meeting his son’s gaze, the two staring like that for a few moments before Ken broke, smiled, ran a hand back over his scalp.      “Nope. Nada.”      Eldon walked to the small window, studied the drive again. “Didn’t see the car.”      “Walked.”      “What’s wrong with it?”      “Nothing. It’s fine.”      “Then why didn’t you drive? You go home last night?”      Ken tapped his foot on the floor, louder and quicker as if he had lost total control. “You keeping tabs on me now?”      Eldon finished the coffee, set the mug in the sink. “You hungry?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Just got sandwich stuff.”

“Fine. That’s alright.”

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Profile for Buffalo Almanack

Buffalo Almanack, Issue No. 2  

Short fiction by Jared Yates Sexton, Amanda Miska, Paul Hamilton and Robert James Russell.

Buffalo Almanack, Issue No. 2  

Short fiction by Jared Yates Sexton, Amanda Miska, Paul Hamilton and Robert James Russell.

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