December.
It came through the clinic in a plain white envelope. Inside was a handwritten note on ruled paper.
The boys opened it together at our table.
Dear Luke and Ben,
I’ve read your letter about thirty times. My wife says I need to stop carrying it around in my pocket.
My name is Tom. I’m sixty-one. I teach high school chemistry in Oregon. I donated in 2005, when I was a graduate student at the University of Kansas and needed money for rent.
I never thought I’d hear from
