Michael Walked Out of His Office the Day Four-Year-Old Noah Called About a Broken Arm
“Where are you at right now?” Michael asked.
“I’m hiding in the pantry,” Noah said.
He sniffled softly.
He was gripping his left sleeve tight with his right hand, a habit Michael could see perfectly in his mind.
“He’s mad,” Noah said.
“He was yelling about the TV remote.
He threw it at the wall.”
Michael turned his back to the windows.
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