Crisis

The stories that never made the official report.

I worked crisis in Sagebrush City, a desert city in the Southwest where the bus doesn't come and the benefits office keeps moving farther from the bus line.

Most days, the best I could do was keep a bad day from turning permanent.

The names have been changed, and so have a lot of the details, to protect everyone, including me.

Korey was one of my clients. Just under 350 pounds, powered by snack food and stubbornness, with a brain that flickered between brilliance and static depending on the day. A late bus or the wrong letter in the mail could knock his whole week sideways. He also made me laugh harder than anybody else in Sagebrush.

One night the community center needed somebody to host the late-night call-in show. Korey was the only person in the room. He'd come for the air conditioning.

The callers said the things people don't say in daylight. Korey usually felt like a leftover. He turned out to be good at answering.

He didn't get fixed. He went back to his game consoles and his bus theories and his nachos.

Then one day I showed up for a home visit, and the police were already there.

I also did private adoptions. When I got everything right, a newborn went straight from the hospital to a family with the nursery already built, instead of to an orphanage. People think America doesn't have orphanages. We have orphanages in every state.

Before every handoff, I held the baby and said my name. No form ever asked for that part.

Sun comes up. Nonsense clocks in. So do I.

Crisis is one of ten Sagebrush City books. Read them in any order.

Ebook (epub), delivered right after purchase.

Included free: Jukebox, a short bonus Sagebrush City book.