My 10-year-old son had been secretly sharing his lunch with a stray dog behind an old hardware store. I thought it was just a sweet act of kindness — until a red SUV showed up, and the dog’s heartbreaking past came to light. My name’s Corinne.
I’m 37 and live in a small town tucked between the mountains and memories of better days. I work long shifts at a local diner called Millie’s, the kind of place with chipped mugs, a jukebox that still plays Patsy Cline, and a regular named Hank who always orders black coffee and leaves a two-dollar tip, no matter what the bill is. It’s not a fancy life, but it’s ours.
There’s something about the way he carries himself that’s always made me say Theo has an old soul. He’s the kind of kid who thanks the bus driver every single day, even if he’s the last one off. He waves to the garbage guys like they’re celebrities.Continue reading…