I Saw a Biker Steal a Wheelchair From a Crying Old Woman Outside Walmart

window, he was still there. Sitting on my porch steps. Working on my railing anyway. With his own wood he’d brought from somewhere.”

“He finished the railing around sundown. Packed up his tools. Didn’t knock again. Just left an envelope in my mailbox.”

“What was in the envelope?”

“A letter from his father. Mailed to him from prison about six months before continue reading …