The Secret She Never Told Me
We sat by the dryers.
The air smelled like soap and old floors.
Eli asked if I remembered getting lost at the county fair.
I did.
He described the glitter butterfly on my cheek.
He’d been the one who found me.
Held my hand.
Walked me to a police officer.
My mom had thanked him.
Asked his name.
No one had done that in years.
She found him again the next week.
Brought a sandwich.
Kept showing up.
She told him about me.
Every milestone.
Then he told me the rest.
She helped him get counseling.
Job training.
A way out.
He promised her that if he ever made it, he’d wear a suit to prove it.
He handed me an envelope.
Inside was a photo from the fair.
Me and my mom.
And Eli — blurred in the background.
I sobbed.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
