The grave was mown, the headstone glimmering in the dawning light. Jack crouched down, the photo in his hands crumpled with much handling.
“Hey, kid,” Jack said softly, fingering the picture’s edges. “I miss you.”
He listened to the soughing wind, patient and soothing. “This is Daniel,” Jack said finally, propping the picture against the headstone. “I wanted you to meet him. He’s a good man. He’s … special to me. And I think … he’d have loved you just as much as I still do.”
The wind ruffled his hair, just as he’d ruffled Charlie’s, once upon a time.
.:.
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