While I waited for my coffee to brew, my fingers toyed idly with the black card in my hand. The name “Curtis Black” was printed boldly in gold across the sleek surface. ‘Is that his name?’ I thought, intrigued and slightly mesmerized.
He had told me to call him if I ever needed help. But I doubted I ever would or at least, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Accepting his help would mean feeling indebted to him, and that was something I couldn’t afford.
With my phone in hand, I hesitated, his number already keyed in. My finger hovered over the dial button, and my mind raced. ‘What would I even say?’ Frustration bubbled up as I frowned, finally tossing the phone aside.
Instead, I opened my laptop. If I wasn’t ready to call him, I could at least learn more about him. About his family. About
