A Tin of Old Photographs Revealed Why a Best Friend Kept Helping

heard his heavy footsteps behind me.

I walked out to the driveway, the ninety-degree air hitting me like a wall. The gravel was hot through the soles of my shoes, the glare of the afternoon sun reflecting off the hood of my car.

Harold followed me out, stopping by the driver-side door, his shadow long against the white siding of his garage.

“I got the continue reading …