On the 29th Day of Christmas Stephen Ground gave to me… The night they brought Billy home, Matt couldn’t sleep. Not unusual – Christmas at work was stressful, and he drank too much coffee – but when Martha woke to feed Billy at two, four, and six, Matt was watching Home Alone on repeat in
There were two in the station, a dreadlocked twenty-something who smelled worse than he looked and a girl, maybe fifteen, concealer-choked cordillera of acne ridging cheekbones. A Hannah Montana backpack, relic from another life, pinched between scuffed Adidas All-Stars, a life-preserver in the ocean of downtown; sweater, sandwich, a pair of fresh gitch – worldly
