I Found a Biker Crying Behind a Dumpster Holding a Photo of a Little Girl

the bat we keep behind the counter and walked out slow.

Then I heard him. Whispering. Talking to something he was holding.

“I’m sorry, baby. Daddy is so sorry.”

I froze in the doorway.

He was holding a photograph. Both hands. Like it would blow away if he let go with one.

A little girl. Maybe six years old. Pigtails. Missing a front tooth. Sitting on a continue reading …