After My Father’s

”

“You always had to prove you were better.”

“No,” I said. “I had to prove I wasn’t as small as you needed me to be.”

His head turned slowly.

There was hate in his eyes.

Real hate.

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” he asked. “Running on grief and applause from factory workers?”

“As long as it takes.”

“You’ll break.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled faintly.

Then continue reading …