Finally, he looked at me.
“Anna?”
“Yes?”
He rubbed his thumb along the handle of his mug.
“Who is doing Dad’s part at your wedding?”
My smile disappeared.
Our father had been gone for almost a year.
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My 5-Year-Old Son Pointed at a Woman in a Bakery “Mommy, She Comes to 0ur House When You’re at Work”
The fluorescent, tube style lighting of the pediatric clinic staff pantry hummed a dull, monotonous, vibrating tune. It was a frequency that usually faded…