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

she walked back toward the porch.

She did not reach for the rabbit, letting her hands swing freely at her sides.

“Do you want your bunny, Mia?” I asked, holding it out.

“No,” she said, her small fingers reaching for a dandelion instead. “Bunny is tired.”

I set the worn gray rabbit on the porch railing, its frayed ears catching the warm breeze.

A blue sedan continue reading …