The Room My Father Built
And he stood there for what the clock in my hand says was fifty-one seconds without moving at all.
Then he said my name.
“Gwen?”
People always ask what it sounded like and I have never been able to answer it properly, so I have started saying this instead: it was the way you say a name into a room you have already decided is empty.
There was no hope in it and no worry in it.
It was a man checking a box.
He searched.
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