A police car pulled up slowly in front of the house.
For a second, I thought maybe a neighbor had called them because of the scene. I wiped my face with my sleeve, embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone seeing me like that — an old man thrown out like yesterday’s trash.
Two officers stepped out. A young woman and an older man.
“Sir,” the older officer said gently, “are you Mr. Robert Miller?”
“Yes,” I answered, my voice barely steady.
He exchanged a look with his partner.
“We were asked to do a wellness check,” the young officer said. “A nurse from the hospital reported concerns about your discharge.”
I frowned. “Concerns?”
“According to the paperwork,” she continued, “you were supposed to be released to in-home care services. A nurse was scheduled to meet you here today.”
My heart skipped.
