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THE LETTER
May 1, 1986, was a scorcher, the kind where your shirt sticks to the skin from the humidity. Kenny walked to the end of his driveway to check the mail and, when sticking his hand in the box, grabbed what he figured to be junk mail. He walked into his house and sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through the letters, noticing one from California. Written on the corner of the envelope was the name Lucy Cargo. He felt he might hyperventilate. Kenny sat down, almost missing the chair to catch his breath; his heart fluttered as he feared it may burst into a million pieces. He opened the sealed envelope, fingered several documents and a handwritten letter. He felt nausea take over his stomach and ran to the restroom to throw up in the sink. At first, Kenny thought it was a cruel j
