The Groundskeeper Handed Me My Father’s Secret Instead of His Grave

anymore. My father never talked about his twenties except to say he used to have better knees and worse judgment.

“Did you see where he went?”

“No.”

“Did he say where he was staying?”

“Nope.”

“Did he say who was after him?”

Leon bent, picked one clipped flower off the grass, and turned it between his thumb and forefinger before tossing it in the bucket.

“He continue reading …