When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
He had called the watch:
our compass.
I stared at the words.
Oliver whispered:
“My dad told me there was a name inside.”
I looked at him.
“He said if I ever didn’t have anybody, I should remember the name.”
My throat closed.
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