“This card has my name on it.”
“This one was harder to read.”
I caught Walter’s eye. He gave the smallest nod. I had slipped him a single card in the car on the way over, just one, so he wouldn’t hear it cold. I looked at him again before reading aloud.
“‘My father still thinks he’s teaching me values. Smile. Nod. Wait. One day it’ll all be mine anyway.'”
Walter closed his eyes.
For the first time that evening, Graham looked ashamed.
I stepped past him without slowing, far enough that he understood I was no longer within reach.
Behind me, cards turned over softly, one after another, like pages of a book finally being read aloud.
For the first time that evening, Graham looked ashamed.
Outside, the night air felt cooler than I expected, and I lifted my face to it.
Walter squeezed my hand. “You are what you have done.”
For the first time in twenty-seven years, I was no longer breathing for anyone but myself.
