What Philip Did in Tulsa

“Why, Philip, I’m Harvey. Jemison. From Tulsa.” Harvey cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “You have to remember Tulsa.” It was a statement, not a question.

Philip did remember Tulsa. Every day, he remembered Tulsa. Every day, he ran from that town, and El Paso and Albuquerque and Mesa, too, but never seemed to get far enough away. He nodded his head to show that he did remember Tulsa.

“But you don’t recognize me?”

Philip shook his head again.

“So, you must have skipped town by the time the trial started. You must have been long gone, huh?”

Up and down, the sweat flipped off of Philip’s soaked hair. And in that moment, he suddenly figured it out.

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