When he paused to empty trash bags behind the store, the phone buzzed again. Furrowing his brow, he skimmed the subject lines: messages about “donations” and “support.” His heart momentarily fluttered, but cynicism took hold. Who would donate money to him, of all people?
Muttering under his breath, Derrick deleted a handful of emails without opening them. “Probably phishing,” he grumbled, tossing cardboard into the dumpster. The notion that random strangers might be sending him cash felt absurd. He had learned the hard way that nothing came easy in life.