The crowd thought the boy in the wheelchair was helpless-until the wild mustang lowered his head to his boots

This morning, the first thing he remembered was Cinder’s breath on his  boots.

He dressed without calling for help. It took longer than it used to. Everything did. Jeans were a battle.  Boots required patience and a kind of anger he could aim at something practical. By the time Caroline knocked softly on the bathroom door, he was already in his chair,continue reading …