Daisy had loved them, in her own way, and maybe—just maybe—she had found a sense of peace at the end. The family drew close, letting that final image of Daisy’s peace settle over them, each finding their own way to remember and forgive.

The street was mostly quiet; only a few children were outside, their laughter floating through the air as they ran around or headed to the corner store. Then, three black cars slowly rolled up the block on Reed Street. Eyes turned, and children paused in surprise—it was the Knox children, siblings whose lives seemed as mysterious as their mother’s passing. The air in South Philadelphia was thick with the mingled scents of sweat and hustle, an aroma of hard work and survival seeping from every corner of the neighborhood.

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.