I looked at the jacket. If I took it, I’d just hang it in a closet at the nursing home. It would sit in the dark, smelling of mothballs until I died. Then Sarah would donate it right back to the same rack. History dies when you lock it away.
Tag: teen
Who’s Your Daddy?
Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about the teen, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, ‘Son, who’s your daddy?’