An Imperfect Weekend

The van, a white Ford Econoline, was upside down, planted hood first on a steep slope in a dense thicket of bushes and trees, near the bottom of a ravine, just off the shoulder of the highway. Lee Risler was lying nose to roof. The sharp corner of the dome light was beneath the point of his left hip, digging in, stabbing at the same raw spot. His body, outstretched, was tilted at an angle, feet elevated higher than his head. He was buried in an avalanche of shoe boxes and leather sandals, about eight hundred pairs in eight different styles, each crafted painstakingly by his own hands.

Author: Mike Sager
Source: Esquire
Published: Sep 1, 2000
Length: 30 minutes (7,748 words)
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