"The Iron Mountain Railroad’s passenger train No. 4 rumbled over the bridge, bound for St. Louis 65 miles to the north. Helms was walking the track through a low rock cut when he heard a strange squeak, like that of a field mouse.
"He saw a small, battered piece of luggage. “I opened it, and inside was a baby,” said Helms."Who was this baby?
Why did his mother abandon him? What kind of life did she have? What was her story?
There's always a story.
Everyone has a story.
Perhaps it's more the storyteller in me that is intrigued by the unanswerable mysteries of life.