jaylar
John
John sat at the table with his father, wanting to say something, not wanting to say anything. His father, picking up that ‘something had happened’, was not going to demand the’what’ now.
He spoke about nothing much, and John who usually was silent or opposing, now spoke easily and agreeably.
The day moved smoothly and as it got dark, his father suggested he make his way home, as the path was treacherous.
John’s father lived on a hillside. John didn’t argue, said something about coming back and the father told him Sunday was a good day.
John wanted to hug his father, but didn’t. Not yet. Let this new relationship get normal.
He left the house, came down the hill, found a bus, and went home.
Then, then he cried.
