“Maybe not everything Daniel packed ended up where he expected,” I replied.
Dean’s eyes filled.
Sophie quietly raised her phone.
“Mom.”
I turned.
For one terrible second, all I saw was that driveway six years earlier.
Daniel.
Three boys.
The last photograph.
For one terrible second, all I saw was that driveway six years earlier.
Sophie looked through the screen.
“Closer.”
Dean stepped beside me.
Ben held the fishing rod.
His grandfather rested a hand on his shoulder.
Nobody replaced anybody.
Nobody could.
But we were still connected by what happened that day.
Sophie smiled.
Click.
And this time, I didn’t wonder who might disappear after the picture.
I simply let myself be in it.
And this time, I didn’t wonder who might disappear after the picture.
