Mark cleared his throat. “Mom… you still like those ginger crackers?”
Dorothy smiled through tears. “Yes. And Michael remembers. You didn’t.”
No more shouting. Just voices. Then laughter.
I peeked out. The door to 4B was open. The kids were at the table. Michael was making tea. Dorothy told a story about George, voice strong and sure.
No one checked their phones. No one watched the clock.Continue reading…
