Ruth Brandt — The Suitcase on the Porch
In the parking lot he asked whether he could speak to me privately.
Eva waited with the children, and I kept the conversation short.
“I didn’t know how small they would be,” he said.
“I thought three years was a long time.
Then I saw them, and it wasn’t long enough for everything they’ve already learned.”
“No,” I said.
“It wasn’t.”
He looked at the flower.