The Paper Peddler

by Judy Hurd 2014 I barely heard the timid knocking. Since I did, I folded my laptop closed and rolled back my desk chair, made the trip down the stairs to the door and opened it. Standing on my doorstep was the cutest little fellow holding onto the handle of a bright red wagon partly filled with old newspapers. Maybe four years old, dressed in Osh-Kosh coveralls he’d about outgrown, a blue, stripped tee shirt, tennies, and no socks. A towhead with bright blue eyes in an earnest face. “Do you want to buy a newspaper?” he asked, staring up at me. I stepped out to look up and down the block. Not a soul in sight. Then the light turned on in my head. The new family a couple doors down. They had moved in several weeks earlier. I’d seen them in their yard a few times,...