The Empty Inhaler
The instant he saw me, his face shifted too fast, sliding into concern like a mask.
“Clara,” he said, hurrying toward me.
“What happened?
My phone died.
I was at a client dinner, I swear.
I came the second I plugged it in.”
I stared at the man our son had called for in his final moments.
“Our son is gone. He died asking for you.”