Don Raymond lives in the tiny hamlet of Alturas, California, where he works as an accountant at the local casino, which is not a career path his guidance counselors ever mentioned to him. In keeping with the tradition that writers have weird jobs, he has previously been a light bulb salesman and the manager of an Egyptian museum. He spends his free time writing, playing the harmonica, and mediating the Machiavellian feline politics of his household. He also once didn’t make a left turn at Albuquerque. You can read more of his work at Bourbon Penn, Everyday Fiction, and Architrave Press.