The Kindest Lie: A Delivery Driver, an Old Woman, and Rusty’s Last Winter

being angry.

“Yeah,” I said. “Who’s this?”

A pause, like he was deciding whether to swing.

“My name is David,” he said. “David Higgins. Betty Higgins was my mother.”

My throat went dry so fast it felt like paper.

“I—” I started, and nothing came after.

He exhaled through his nose. Not a sigh. A controlled burn.

“I’ve got some questions for you.”

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