Tom had changed over the years. Where before he had stressed about not feeling part of the family, now he was indifferent.
He’d fought a war, he knew himself. He didn’t need approval or acceptance.
Being in the house, he thought of Maya. He knew there must be records of who died in that tornado. Yet, he was reluctant to find them.
He imagined she was in some city somewhere, imagined she’d write or had written him.
He thought about her all the time, especially when he went fishing.