The call came at 8:12 on a sticky Texas morning, the kind of morning where the air already feels heavy before the sun has finished climbing.
I was barefoot in the kitchen, standing on cool tile, waiting for coffee to drip into my favorite mug while rain tapped lightly against the window over the sink.
Marcus was still asleep down the hall, and the apartment was quiet except for the soft gurgle of the coffee maker and the hum of the refrigerator.
When my phone buzzed on the counter, I glanced down expecting a delivery alert, a bank notice, or one of those spam calls that always seem to know when your hands are full.
Instead, I saw an unknown Ohio number.
My whole body reacted before my mind caught up.
My shoulders went tight, my mouth went dry, and for one sharp second, I was not in Texas anymore.
I was back in Ohio, standing in the frontIf you want to read the full story without ads, click on “Full Story.”room of a house I had fought for, watching shadows pass by the window and wondering which one would turn into my father on the porch.
