A child was crawling toward his porch.
Small hands on hot concrete.
One knee pushing forward.
One leg dragging behind.
A second, smaller child clinging to the back of his shirt.
Peter stood so fast the coffee can tipped and screws scattered across the porch.
“Drew?”
The boy lifted his head.
He was six now, but he looked smaller than that.
His dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.
His face was pale under streaks of dirt and dried tears.
One leg dragged at an angle that made Peter’s stomach lurch.
Behind him, Lily clung to the stretched fabric of Drew’s shirt with both hands.
