He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

the part most people don’t know. The next morning, sunlight filtered through my apartment windows in soft geometric shapes. Warm. Steady. Undeservedly peaceful, considering the corporate wildfire spreading across Brixell DataWorks. I set my suitcase down, plugged in my dead phone, and poured myself a cup of coffee. Before the mug reached my lips, the continue reading …