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Leanna Avery As I stir the pot, I glance at Finn, who has had his nose glued to the kitchen window ever since we got home from the store. “Finn, get away from there.” He looks at me, not listening. “He’s been standing outside for hours, Mom. He’s out there every day. It’s been, like, a week. Can’t we invite him in?” “No,” I reply shortly. “Why not?” I move the spoon around a little more aggressively in the meat stew. “He didn’t even have lunch, and now we’re having dinner, and—I can take a plate to him!” He gives me a hopeful look. I set down the spoon and turn to face my son. “Why are you so concerned about him?” Finn shrugs and looks back out the window. “I don’t know. He seems kind of lonely.” His words take me by surprise, and despite my reluctance, I walk over to the window a
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