For 412 Mornings, a 17-Year-Old Boy Paid for the Same Nurse’s Coffee. Then One Morning, He Disappeared.
“Where’s my boy?” The nurse asked me that on a snowy Friday morning, leaning out of her dented silver Corolla at my drive-through window. For more than a year, a rusty green Honda had appeared at the gas station across the road every school morning. A skinny seventeen-year-old boy would sit there with his engine…