knew my son. Daniel wasn’t the kind of boy who just vanished without a word.
And I would never stop looking for him, no matter how long it took.
Everyone started calling Daniel a runaway.
Almost a year later, I was in another city for a business meeting. I’d eventually forced myself back into some facsimile of normal life — work, grocery shopping, phone calls with my sister on Sunday evenings.
After my meeting wrapped up, I stopped at a small café. I ordered a coffee and waited at the counter.
