dark.
Hands that had been called “inefficient.”
And then my phone buzzed.
A message from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Margaret? It’s Kayla. Med-Surg nights. I found your post. Please don’t delete it. Please.”
I blinked.
My post.
Last night, after I left that untouched sheet cake behind, after I drove home in my beat-up sedan and sat in my driveway long enough continue reading …
