A Nurse Mentioned the Woman Visiting My Dying Husband—Then She Came to My Door With a Letter About a Five-Year-Old Boy
Leo considered the information as though it might affect his own opinion of pancakes.
“I like middle.”
“That’s a good part, too.”
He returned to the train.
I watched him join two pieces, discover they did not fit, and try another.
Five-year-old determination had a rhythm entirely unrelated to the questions adults were carrying around him.
I did not ask whether he called Simon Daddy.
I wanted to.