Standing in front of the public restroom, Joseph Bailey had clearly been waiting for a long time. A small hill of cigarette butts lay scattered around his shoes, forming a messy ring at his feet.
Beside him, two literal “mountains” of gifts were stacked up—boxes and bags piled almost to his shoulders. There were household essentials, small pieces of furniture, home appliances, and, more than anything else, toys for a child: plush animals, building blocks, model cars, dolls, puzzles, plastic guns and swords—enough to fill a kid’s bedroom ten times over.
The moment Joseph Bailey saw Matthew Powell, his eyes lit up like he’d just spotted a lifeboat in the middle of a storm. He crushed his cigarette under his heel and jogged over with a hunched, almost servile posture.
“Big Bro, Sis-in-law,
