I read it twice. Then a third time.
Then I folded the page carefully and tucked it into my wallet, behind the faded photo of Iris eating ice cream that I'd carried since she was ten years old.
Two items in my wallet now. Two people worth protecting.
The numbers were getting bigger. The old Isaiah would have found that terrifying.
The current Isaiah found it terrifying too.
But also, somehow, worth it.
Monday morning arrived with the particular cruelty that only November in Philadelphia could produce. Cold rain, gray skies, and a wind that found every gap in my jacket like a pickpocket with something to prove.
