I had laid down for a nap in front of the fire ( I am so exhausted) with Isla. Not fifteen minutes after I get all cozy and comfy — was when I noticed my kiddo heading towards the front door.

A ginormous box was delivered to our front porch, and the driver was ass n elbows gone before we could confirm whether it was ours.

It wasn’t. The box was marked Butcher Box. I asked Sam to read the name and address of the recipient aloud. The one and only mailing sticker was worn away in some spots. The…

The Bad Filipino

Myki Angeline

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