pulls a chair to the bedside, sits down, folds his hands. “Then who found you?” Eddie’s face changes. Something softens.
“A little girl.” Gerald leans forward in the chair. “A little girl?” Eddie nods, slow, like even that takes effort. “I was on a bench, bus stop on Garrison Street. I don’t know how many days I’d been there. Two, maybe three. Couldn’t continue reading …
