I walked across Elm towards the union office of Local 48 on Eighth Street. I'd gotten tired of waiting in the reception area of CityBeat for an appointment I'd made. I was antsy and thought maybe I  

I sent her a message an hour ago and now find myself hitting the inbox link on my e-mail over and over again. Nothing new comes in. I hope she returns the message. Our correspondence has been thin  

The day was hot and humid, the kind of heat and humidity in Cincinnati that warps out time and everything seems to move in slow motion. In my gold Toyota, I was driving westward on Dana Avenue. A   

"Ta da!" The smiling man sang out as he pulled his top hat off, separating it from a black cane held in his other hand. His wide smile highlighted a gap in the middle of his upper teeth. I couldn't