I found a small cafe just down the street from the hospital.
I sat by the window on my fifth cup of coffee, staring out at nothing. People walked by on the sidewalk. Cars drove past. Life continued like normal while mine fell apart and rebuilt itself and fell apart again, all in the span of a few hours.
The envelope from Dr Abel sat on the table in front of me. Ten thousand dollars in cash. A five-hundred-thousand-dollar insurance policy. A key to secrets my mother had kept hidden. A father I never knew existed.
I should have felt relieved. Maybe grateful or even excited to say the least.
Instead, I just felt sad.
Hollow and sad and so, so tired.
Only hours ago, I'd been sure I would end up living under a bridge. Or in a homeless shelter. Completely broke with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Now everything had brightened up. I had money, more options than I had yesterday, and a seemingly bright future where I would never need to beg for money again.
