The cafe sidewalk was loud with the kind of life that never stops for anyone.

about.”

The old man’s breath caught.

“What did she write?”

The boy reached into his torn pocket and drew out a folded page, soft at the creases from being opened too many times. He placed it on the table beside the untouched meal.

The old man unfolded it with shaking fingers.

It was his daughter’s handwriting.

Older now.

Uneven.continue reading …