After My Father’s

ear.

“When everything settles,” he whispered, “we need to talk business.”

I turned my head slowly.

His eyes were dry.

Not red. Not tired. Not grieving.

Dry.

“Miles,” I said, barely moving my lips, “we just buried my father.”

His expression did not change. “I know. That’s why timing matters.”

For one second, I thought grief had damaged my hearing. Then Reverend continue reading …