A survivor's story
The house had finally sold. After months of showings and negotiations, we closed, accepting the offer of a mean spirited woman who wanted the house so she could live closer to her daughter––I often wondered how her daughter felt about those plans. We would later find out that the buyer, whose name I believe was …
The boy sitting at the back of the bus was maybe ten or twelve years old. Dark haired and dark eyed, he leaned against the foggy window, hunkered down in the last seat to the right. His hoodie covered most of his face and music filtered from his mobile serenading those of us who also …