It was around nine when the doorbell sounded.
I did not answer it because I did not want a condolence card or anyone to look at me with pity.
There were more rings, followed by loud banging a few seconds later.
It took all I had to finally make my way to the door, prepared to deal with anyone who needed something.
But when I opened it, a little girl stood holding onto Randy’s backpack as tight as she could.Children’s clothing
She was no more than eight or nine years old, with dirty hair and tear-filled eyes.
As soon as I laid my eyes on that backpack, I was sure my heart had skipped a beat.
“Are you Randy’s mom?”
Pexels
I nodded, unable to say anything more.School supplies
“I know that you were looking for this, right?”
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