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“Ready?” he asked.
I looked down at Drew’s vest, folded carefully in my arms.
Then I looked at the 12 bikers waiting for us, with the doctor standing among them.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think Drew would want us to go.”
For the first time since losing my son, I wasn’t afraid to let someone walk beside me.
If you were Bridget, would you have trusted the tattooed doctor to arrange a surprise for your terminally ill son without knowing all the details?
Loved this story? Here’s another one: A man inherits his late father’s broken grandfather clock, but his brother-in-law becomes strangely desperate to take it. Then, one night, the clock suddenly chimes at 2:15 a.m., even though it hasn’t worked in 12 years. What was hidden inside?
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