Night Walking (part 8)

“She wanted me to save them,” the girl cried, “but these two died while I was at school.” She lifted the used paper towel to show two dead baby opossums. “And I don’t know how to save this one.”

“Okay, okay,” Phil said, clumsily patting her shoulder. “What’s your name?”


“Okay, Tammy, it’s okay.”

“Can you save it?” she asked, her eyes full of hope.

“I think so,” Phil nodded. “You know she’s my mother, the woman you called 9-1-1 for?”

“I knew she came from your house. I saw her go in your front door sometimes.”

“You mean, you saw her do this more than once?”

Tammy nodded. “Lots of times.”

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