Michael Walked Out of His Office the Day Four-Year-Old Noah Called About a Broken Arm

Carla had gotten up from her chair at the table.

She held her red pen up in the air.

“Dad… please come home.

Travis hurt my arm with the bat.

Please.”

The words rushed through the little speaker on a gasp.

“What bat?” Michael asked.

“The wooden one from the garage,” Noah said.