“Sometimes kindness is leaving the door unlocked.”
Saturday morning, a silver sedan pulled into Barbara’s driveway.
David stood beside the car for several seconds, staring at the house as if it belonged to a nightmare he had memorized.
He crossed the lawn and folded into her arms.
I started to lower the curtain, but Anna stopped me.
“Let them have privacy,” she said.
We stepped away from the window.
Later that afternoon, someone knocked on our door.
David stood on the porch.
