across town.
When I arrived at her address, I almost turned back. The house looked forgotten — paint peeling, windows shuttered, the yard overgrown. But when the door opened, I saw her. Pale, thin, eyes hollow with years of sorrow.
“Anna?” I asked softly.
She hesitated. “Who’s asking?”
I held out the letter. “I found this — inside a pair of baby shoes.continue reading …
