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“Sir, I found your son beside the dumpster outside your mansion,” a soaking wet little girl said as she handed over a crying baby wrapped in a black trash bag. The billionaire, declared sterile twelve years earlier, didn’t panic. He stared into the child’s eyes and asked, “Who sent you here to play this sick game?” The little girl pointed a trembling finger at the top of the grand staircase, whispering, “The lady who told us to throw him away.”

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a tray of hot chocolate (without a grain of cinnamon).

As a photographer from the Daisy Foundation prepared to take a group portrait to commemorate the opening of our new downtown women’s shelter, he asked us to squeeze together.

Charlee, wearing a bright yellow sundress that perfectly matched her repaired spirit, suddenly broke away from the group. continue reading …

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