A Blank Page in Cimarron

A.B. Parr

Wizened and wrinkled, the old man came down from the mountains with a leather bag and a box of books. The sack bounced off his shoulder and dug into his weary flesh. He had done his

seeking. Twenty-three years teaching literature in halls that smelled of chalk and young ambition. Three novels that found small audiences. Two women who left with grace, ta…