Michael Walked Out of His Office the Day Four-Year-Old Noah Called About a Broken Arm
Michael stood there holding the little blue sweater.
He could feel strangers’ judgment settling heavy on his shoulders.
Noah pushed the heavy wooden restroom door open.
He glanced at the staring waitress, then up at his mother.
“Are we going home now?” Noah asked, soft and unsure.
“Are we going home, Mom?”
Travis showed up at the end of the hall.
He stood with his hands deep in his coat pockets, watching Michael with a look of complete satisfaction.
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