moved.
I looked over at his mother across the lot. She was standing by a blue Civic, hand over her mouth, tears just running down her face. She didn’t call him back. She just stood there and let it happen.
I crouched down to eye level with the boy. My knees hated me for it. I felt about ninety years old.
“Tell me what cancer looks like to you, buddy.”
He continue reading …
