“…letter.”

Leo reached into the front pocket of his oversized denim jacket and pulled out a small, crumpled white envelope. It was soft around the edges, like it had been carried around in small hands for a very long time.

It had my name—Ms. Sarah Miller—written on the front in shaky, blue ballpoint ink.

My hands were trembling so badly I almost dropped it taking it from him. The youth center worker took a step forward, her brow furrowed, asking if I was a relative. I choked on the word no. I told her I was an old employer. An old friend. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth.

I pulled out the tiny plastic chair across from Leo and sat down. My knees were practically touching my chin. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from this little boy. He had Teresa’s dark, tired eyes. He was wearing a faded Batman t-shirt that hung off his thin shoulders, and his fingernails were bitten down to the quick.

I slid my thumb under the flap of the envelope.

Inside was a faded pink pawn shop receipt. The date printed at the top was exactly one day before I noticed the watch was missing from my office. Folded around the receipt was a piece of lined notebook paper.

I unfolded it.

Dear Ms. Miller, I am writing this because I don’t have your home address to mail it, and they wouldn’t let me past the lobby at the clinic today. I wanted you to know I didn’t take your husband’s watch. I was emptying your trash when your boy Jake came in. He was looking through your desk drawers. He looked so scared and sick. When he found the watch, I told him to put it back.

He started yelling at me. He said he owed bad men a lot of money and they were going to hurt him. I had fifty dollars in my purse for groceries. I tried to give it to him, to make him put the watch down. He just took the watch and ran. I found this pink ticket on the floor by the back exit later that night. He must have dropped it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to destroy your family, and I thought maybe I could take my next paycheck to the pawn shop and buy it back for you before you noticed. But then you fired me.

I am not mad at you. I know how it looked. But please, Ms. Miller, watch out for your boy. He is in very deep trouble and he needs his mother. God bless, Teresa

A sound came out of my throat that I didn’t recognize. It was a wet, ugly gasp.

She didn’t just not steal the watch. She had actively tried to stop it. She had offered her own meager grocery money to my privileged, selfish stepson to try and save him from making a mistake. She had tried to protect my family’s peace, and in return, I had looked her dead in the eye and thrown her out into the street.